Audio from My Academy Lecture (11/08/13)

Here's the audio from Friday Night's Academy lecture:  Click Here

Audio from My Academy Lecture (10/09/13)

Here is the audio from last Friday Night's Academy lecture.  This is the fourth in the series and is entitled, "In the Land of Nod: Adam Cast from Eden"  

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Audio from My Academy Lecture

Here's the audio from Friday Night's Academy Lecture.  The third lecture in the series is entitled "In the Land of Nod:  Adam in Eden"

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Audio from My Academy Lecture

Here's the audio from Friday Night's Academy lecture (9/27/13).

This is the second lecture in my series, "In the Land of Nod."  The lecture is entitled, "Nod:  A Flyover--An Introduction to the Reformed Doctrine of the Two Kingdoms."

Nod: Lecture Two

Audio from My Academy Lecture

Here is the audio from my new Academy series, "In the Land of Nod."  The lecture is entitled "Our Times:  The Reformed Doctrine of the Two Kingdoms in the Contemporary American Context"

Nod: Lecture One

The Academy Is Back!

I am beginning a new lecture series entitled "In the Land of Nod" at Christ Reformed's Friday Night Academy.  The lecture begins at 7:30 p.m. if you are in the area. 

In my first lecture, I'll be introducing the Reformed doctrine of the two kingdoms, considering the current controversy, and looking at some of the resources available on this topic.

If you want more info, click here: Christ Reformed Church

Horton and Jones on "Two Kingdoms and Slavery"

My White Horse Inn compatriots Mike Horton and Ken Jones, recently addressed Anthony Bradley's charge (in response to Carl Trueman and others) that Presbyterians in the antebellum South did not oppose slavery and supported racial segregation because of their doctrine of the "spirituality of the church" (which is closely related to the classical distinction between the two kingdoms).  Bradley contends such a supposed dualism between the church and the world provided cover for those southerners amenable to race-based slavery. 

Bradley's charge raises a number of important questions, and Horton and Jones capably address them.

Here's Michael's response: Two Kingdoms and Slavery

Here's Ken's:  Does Two Kingdoms Lead to Moral Apathy? 

Two Kingdoms and Slavery

Sep.06, 2013 by Michael Horton in General

A few years ago I had the privilege of speaking at a conference on Karl Barth at Princeton Seminary.  In one unforgettable moment, George Harinck, history professor at the Free University of Amsterdam, explained the difference between the way members of his church (a confessionally conservative Reformed body) and the students of Barth responded to the Nazi occupation.  Consistent with the Barmen Declaration, the Barthians told Hitler to take his hands off of God’s church.  “But our church’s leaders,” related Harinck, “told Hitler to take his hands off of God’s world.”

Professor Harinck belongs to the Reformed Churches—Liberated, a continuing body of the denomination led by Abraham Kuyper.  This remark stayed with me and has haunted me as I try to think through the relationship of Christ and culture.  Where it has clear exegetical warrant, the church speaks authoritatively for God, in Christ’s name, to all of the principalities and powers in this present age.  Christ is Lord of all, not just the church, and his universal claims are to be proclaimed to the world as well as to be embraced and obeyed by those who are called by his name.

I was reminded of Harinck’s provocative comment while reading an interesting volley over the “spirituality of the church” in the blogosphere.  The concern was raised by someone I respect that this doctrine—more generally identified as “two kingdoms”—led to the toleration if not outright encouragement of slavery and segregation in the Southern Presbyterian Church (PCUS).

Like the “two kingdoms” distinction advanced by Luther and Calvin, the “spirituality of the church” refers to its distinct calling in the world.  When I affirm “two kingdoms,” I have in mind the Great Commission issued by our Lord, which mandates that the church preach his Word, administer the sacraments, and preserve the discipline and unity of the body through its officers.  As the Westminster Confession puts the matter, “Synods and councils are to handle or conclude nothing but that which is ecclesiastical: and are not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth, unless by way of humble petition in cases extraordinary; or, by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate” (31.4).

According to the caricature at least, a “two kingdoms” view separates the believer’s life in the church from his or her life in the world.  Anthony Bradley is a conservative Reformed and African-American theologian. In his dialogue with Carl Trueman and others, he raised some pretty important questions about whether such a “dualistic” perspective was precisely what kept the Presbyterian Church in the South from opposing slavery and then segregation.

This is a hugely important issue, especially since the sins of our fathers are still with us and our own Reformed and Presbyterian denominations do not seem yet to reflect the diversity that anticipates the worshipping throng in Revelation 5:9.

So I’ll offer a few brief comments as a pushback to this charge.

First, it is implausible to suggest that the “spirituality of the church” (or “two kingdoms”) was the glue that held together the southern Roman Catholic, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Baptist churches in their common defense of slavery.  Slavery held them together.  Their views on the matter were argued on the basis of racist doctrines and tortured appeals to slavery in biblical times, as if it were anything like modern slavery that depended on kidnapping, murder, theft, and numerous other sins identified in Scripture as capital offenses.

Second, even if we could accept the caricature of the “spirituality” or “two kingdoms” approach as dualistic, this would only mean that the church refused to address the evil because it was a political matter.  In actual fact, though, the church itself was segregated—often more so than society at large.

Third, Southern Presbyterian theologians who labored indefatigably to defend slavery may have cloaked some of their arguments in appeals to the church’s spiritual mission, but they were calling the state to perpetuate the institution from the pulpit and classroom lectern.  I have in mind especially R. L. Dabney and James Henley Thornwell, who based their arguments on a vision of a Christian society that would make the South the envy of the world and enemy of revolutionaries everywhere.   Their arguments for slavery were not based on the spirituality of the church (I’m not even sure how they could be) but on racist dogmas, Scripture twisting, and wicked cultural prejudices that vitiated the gospel.  Charles Hodge was exactly right when he said that Thornwell was using the spirituality of the church as a cover for his errors.  Assimilating Christ to culture is the sort of thing that the spirituality of the church is especially designed to guard against.

Fourth, it is “guilt-by-association” to argue that because such views on slavery and race were held by people who also spoke of the “spirituality of the church,” the latter view is implicated.  One has to show that the doctrine actually supported racism.  Yet it is very easy to argue that the theological architects of apartheid in South Africa thought they were implementing the transformative vision of Abraham Kuyper.  In fact, they had some support for it in Kuyper’s own writings.  When South Africa’s largest Reformed body confessed apartheid to be heresy, the explanation of its development was linked directly to the Kuyperian movement.  In his biography of Kuyper, James Bratt relates that the Dutch leader did not favor the emerging Afrikaner nationalism.  Nevertheless, many of his ideas were applied:

Key leaders in the Reformed churches in South Africa would work their way to Amesterdam to study at the Free University, and they would have considerable impact in shaping Afrikaner thought and identity in the 1920s and 1930s. They magnified the suggestion Kuyper had taken up from S. J. Du Toit that Afrikaners had a holy calling in their land. They savored the biblical warrant that Kuyper gave to the pluriformity of human cultures, giving the Tower of Babel episode normative status for human history and interrelationships. Most crucially, they adapted philosopher H. J. Stoker’s addition of the volk to the sovereign ‘spheres’ ordained of God. With that, Romantic sociology and European racism received a warrant beyond appeal–and quite beyond what Kuyper had accorded them. The results were startling: a system of separate organization based on race instead of religious confession….

This was a radical reversal of the inter-racial Reformed churches and missions that went all the way back to the time of the Synod of Dort (Abraham Kuyper: Modern Calvinist, Christian Democrat [Eerdmans, 2013], 295-96).

So, from a “two kingdoms” perspective, Southern Presbyterians like Dabney and Thornwell and the Afrikaner architects of apartheid were driven by cultural prejudice over Scripture and by a vision of creating a “Christian” (code for “white”) culture.  Any view of the relation between Christ and culture can be abused—including a “two kingdoms” approach.  It would be easier to blame our tradition’s complicity with social sin on a group or party that held a particular doctrine.  But the issue here is racism, pure and simple.  And it is still with us.

Now let’s imagine ourselves back in the 1850s.  What would a “two kingdoms” or “spirituality of the church” doctrine lead one to do?

First, it would lead the church to exercise its spiritual function—specifically, the ministry of the keys (opening and shutting the kingdom of heaven in Christ’s name).

This would be done by preaching the whole counsel of God, including his wrath against the sin of slavery.  There is no Christian liberty to disobey God’s commands and he has commanded clearly that he hates kidnapping, theft, and murder—sins on which the modern slave trade and slave-holding thrived.  Even Christian families were separated from each other for the economic gain of white Christians.  There is no comparison between this form of slavery and the largely debt-based indentured servitude of ancient societies.

Further exercising the keys, churches committed to the spirituality doctrine would have disciplined members and especially officers who held slaves or shared in the traffic of slaves.  It would have been as natural for a church embracing its spiritual mission to do this as it would have been in the case of members and officers participating in a chain of whorehouses.  After the customary steps, the discipline would take the form of excommunication for the unrepentant.  Dr. Dabney was held in high esteem after the Civil War as a minister and professor, as he continued to defend slavery as an honorable institution.  What would have happened if the church had in fact exercised its spiritual vocation?

Second, there is nothing in the “two kingdoms” or “spirituality” doctrine to keep the church from declaring to the civil powers directly what it proclaims to the world from the pulpit.

Recall the judicious language of the Confession above: “…unless by way of humble petition in cases extraordinary; or, by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate.”  It is hard to conceive of a greater example of a “case extraordinary.”  Today denominations offer solemn declarations on all sorts of matters that are not addressed in Scripture and should, therefore, be left to Christian liberty.  The church has no authority to determine the details of public policy, but it does have the authority—indeed, the obligation—to declare God’s condemnation of public as well as private sin.

Third, the church is not only the people of God gathered, but the people of God scattered into the world as parents, children, neighbors, and citizens.

Imagine what might have happened if the Southern Presbyterian Church (PCUS) had fulfilled its spiritual mandate in the first two ways I’ve mentioned.  Wouldn’t the members be shaped by God’s Word and Spirit to oppose such a horrific evil?   And wouldn’t they do so not only in their extended families but in their towns and cities?  Wouldn’t they carry their convictions to the voting booth as loyal citizens?  Some would even do so as judges, legislators, and generals.  What if the church that nurtured R. L. Dabney had denounced slavery with one voice, with all of the spiritual authority in heaven behind it?  Would he have become a notorious defender of racist religion as he preached, wrote, and served as chief of staff to Stonewall Jackson?

Some Southern Presbyterians who held a “spirituality” view (such as B. B. Warfield’s father and grandfather) did oppose slavery on theological grounds.  In fact, his maternal grandfather did so as chairman of the Republican Convention that re-elected Abraham Lincoln, in opposition to his nephew, former Vice President of the United States and a Confederate general.  B. B. Warfield himself shared his father’s pro-abolition and “two kingdom” views and, at the turn of the twentieth century, wrote one of the most moving pleas for integration.  What if the church had been unified on the Word of God touching this crucial matter?

So to return to Professor Harinck’s arresting point:  Anyone who affirms the “two kingdoms” acknowledges Christ as the Lord of both.  Even through pagan rulers, Christ exercises his worldwide dominion.  We tell the principalities and powers not only that the church belongs to Christ, but that ultimately the world belongs to him as well and will not tolerate indefinitely the injustices of this age.  We address Caesar with confidence where the one greater than Caesar has spoken.  And yet addressing the magistrate in his or her public office can be done only “in cases extraordinary,” and “by humble petition.”  In any case, we encourage Caesar in his defense of justice and punishment of evil-doers.  More than this, we announce a law to which everyone is bound and a gospel by which even Neros may be reconciled to God and those they’ve offended.

To lodge the authority of the church in the mission that Jesus assigned to it seems restrictive and ineffective in transforming the world only if we forget that the gospel is the power of God unto salvation.  Are the preaching of the Word, the administration of the sacraments, and church discipline inconsequential in this great battle between the powers of this present evil age and the reign of Christ?  Or are churches powerless against the evil one precisely to the extent that they fail to fulfill their sacred mission?  The history of slavery, Jim Crow, segregation, and the racisms that still haunt our society teach us just how sorely we need the state and the church to carry out their distinct but often cobelligerent callings—the one as God’s minister of temporal justice and the latter as the ministry of everlasting life.

- See more at: http://www.whitehorseinn.org/blog/2013/09/06/two-kingdoms-and-slavery/#sthash.5DDFdF6M.dpuf

Sep.06, 2013 by Michael Horton in General

A few years ago I had the privilege of speaking at a conference on Karl Barth at Princeton Seminary.  In one unforgettable moment, George Harinck, history professor at the Free University of Amsterdam, explained the difference between the way members of his church (a confessionally conservative Reformed body) and the students of Barth responded to the Nazi occupation.  Consistent with the Barmen Declaration, the Barthians told Hitler to take his hands off of God’s church.  “But our church’s leaders,” related Harinck, “told Hitler to take his hands off of God’s world.”

Professor Harinck belongs to the Reformed Churches—Liberated, a continuing body of the denomination led by Abraham Kuyper.  This remark stayed with me and has haunted me as I try to think through the relationship of Christ and culture.  Where it has clear exegetical warrant, the church speaks authoritatively for God, in Christ’s name, to all of the principalities and powers in this present age.  Christ is Lord of all, not just the church, and his universal claims are to be proclaimed to the world as well as to be embraced and obeyed by those who are called by his name.

I was reminded of Harinck’s provocative comment while reading an interesting volley over the “spirituality of the church” in the blogosphere.  The concern was raised by someone I respect that this doctrine—more generally identified as “two kingdoms”—led to the toleration if not outright encouragement of slavery and segregation in the Southern Presbyterian Church (PCUS).

Like the “two kingdoms” distinction advanced by Luther and Calvin, the “spirituality of the church” refers to its distinct calling in the world.  When I affirm “two kingdoms,” I have in mind the Great Commission issued by our Lord, which mandates that the church preach his Word, administer the sacraments, and preserve the discipline and unity of the body through its officers.  As the Westminster Confession puts the matter, “Synods and councils are to handle or conclude nothing but that which is ecclesiastical: and are not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth, unless by way of humble petition in cases extraordinary; or, by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate” (31.4).

According to the caricature at least, a “two kingdoms” view separates the believer’s life in the church from his or her life in the world.  Anthony Bradley is a conservative Reformed and African-American theologian. In his dialogue with Carl Trueman and others, he raised some pretty important questions about whether such a “dualistic” perspective was precisely what kept the Presbyterian Church in the South from opposing slavery and then segregation.

This is a hugely important issue, especially since the sins of our fathers are still with us and our own Reformed and Presbyterian denominations do not seem yet to reflect the diversity that anticipates the worshipping throng in Revelation 5:9.

So I’ll offer a few brief comments as a pushback to this charge.

First, it is implausible to suggest that the “spirituality of the church” (or “two kingdoms”) was the glue that held together the southern Roman Catholic, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Baptist churches in their common defense of slavery.  Slavery held them together.  Their views on the matter were argued on the basis of racist doctrines and tortured appeals to slavery in biblical times, as if it were anything like modern slavery that depended on kidnapping, murder, theft, and numerous other sins identified in Scripture as capital offenses.

Second, even if we could accept the caricature of the “spirituality” or “two kingdoms” approach as dualistic, this would only mean that the church refused to address the evil because it was a political matter.  In actual fact, though, the church itself was segregated—often more so than society at large.

Third, Southern Presbyterian theologians who labored indefatigably to defend slavery may have cloaked some of their arguments in appeals to the church’s spiritual mission, but they were calling the state to perpetuate the institution from the pulpit and classroom lectern.  I have in mind especially R. L. Dabney and James Henley Thornwell, who based their arguments on a vision of a Christian society that would make the South the envy of the world and enemy of revolutionaries everywhere.   Their arguments for slavery were not based on the spirituality of the church (I’m not even sure how they could be) but on racist dogmas, Scripture twisting, and wicked cultural prejudices that vitiated the gospel.  Charles Hodge was exactly right when he said that Thornwell was using the spirituality of the church as a cover for his errors.  Assimilating Christ to culture is the sort of thing that the spirituality of the church is especially designed to guard against.

Fourth, it is “guilt-by-association” to argue that because such views on slavery and race were held by people who also spoke of the “spirituality of the church,” the latter view is implicated.  One has to show that the doctrine actually supported racism.  Yet it is very easy to argue that the theological architects of apartheid in South Africa thought they were implementing the transformative vision of Abraham Kuyper.  In fact, they had some support for it in Kuyper’s own writings.  When South Africa’s largest Reformed body confessed apartheid to be heresy, the explanation of its development was linked directly to the Kuyperian movement.  In his biography of Kuyper, James Bratt relates that the Dutch leader did not favor the emerging Afrikaner nationalism.  Nevertheless, many of his ideas were applied:

Key leaders in the Reformed churches in South Africa would work their way to Amesterdam to study at the Free University, and they would have considerable impact in shaping Afrikaner thought and identity in the 1920s and 1930s. They magnified the suggestion Kuyper had taken up from S. J. Du Toit that Afrikaners had a holy calling in their land. They savored the biblical warrant that Kuyper gave to the pluriformity of human cultures, giving the Tower of Babel episode normative status for human history and interrelationships. Most crucially, they adapted philosopher H. J. Stoker’s addition of the volk to the sovereign ‘spheres’ ordained of God. With that, Romantic sociology and European racism received a warrant beyond appeal–and quite beyond what Kuyper had accorded them. The results were startling: a system of separate organization based on race instead of religious confession….

This was a radical reversal of the inter-racial Reformed churches and missions that went all the way back to the time of the Synod of Dort (Abraham Kuyper: Modern Calvinist, Christian Democrat [Eerdmans, 2013], 295-96).

So, from a “two kingdoms” perspective, Southern Presbyterians like Dabney and Thornwell and the Afrikaner architects of apartheid were driven by cultural prejudice over Scripture and by a vision of creating a “Christian” (code for “white”) culture.  Any view of the relation between Christ and culture can be abused—including a “two kingdoms” approach.  It would be easier to blame our tradition’s complicity with social sin on a group or party that held a particular doctrine.  But the issue here is racism, pure and simple.  And it is still with us.

Now let’s imagine ourselves back in the 1850s.  What would a “two kingdoms” or “spirituality of the church” doctrine lead one to do?

First, it would lead the church to exercise its spiritual function—specifically, the ministry of the keys (opening and shutting the kingdom of heaven in Christ’s name).

This would be done by preaching the whole counsel of God, including his wrath against the sin of slavery.  There is no Christian liberty to disobey God’s commands and he has commanded clearly that he hates kidnapping, theft, and murder—sins on which the modern slave trade and slave-holding thrived.  Even Christian families were separated from each other for the economic gain of white Christians.  There is no comparison between this form of slavery and the largely debt-based indentured servitude of ancient societies.

Further exercising the keys, churches committed to the spirituality doctrine would have disciplined members and especially officers who held slaves or shared in the traffic of slaves.  It would have been as natural for a church embracing its spiritual mission to do this as it would have been in the case of members and officers participating in a chain of whorehouses.  After the customary steps, the discipline would take the form of excommunication for the unrepentant.  Dr. Dabney was held in high esteem after the Civil War as a minister and professor, as he continued to defend slavery as an honorable institution.  What would have happened if the church had in fact exercised its spiritual vocation?

Second, there is nothing in the “two kingdoms” or “spirituality” doctrine to keep the church from declaring to the civil powers directly what it proclaims to the world from the pulpit.

Recall the judicious language of the Confession above: “…unless by way of humble petition in cases extraordinary; or, by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate.”  It is hard to conceive of a greater example of a “case extraordinary.”  Today denominations offer solemn declarations on all sorts of matters that are not addressed in Scripture and should, therefore, be left to Christian liberty.  The church has no authority to determine the details of public policy, but it does have the authority—indeed, the obligation—to declare God’s condemnation of public as well as private sin.

Third, the church is not only the people of God gathered, but the people of God scattered into the world as parents, children, neighbors, and citizens.

Imagine what might have happened if the Southern Presbyterian Church (PCUS) had fulfilled its spiritual mandate in the first two ways I’ve mentioned.  Wouldn’t the members be shaped by God’s Word and Spirit to oppose such a horrific evil?   And wouldn’t they do so not only in their extended families but in their towns and cities?  Wouldn’t they carry their convictions to the voting booth as loyal citizens?  Some would even do so as judges, legislators, and generals.  What if the church that nurtured R. L. Dabney had denounced slavery with one voice, with all of the spiritual authority in heaven behind it?  Would he have become a notorious defender of racist religion as he preached, wrote, and served as chief of staff to Stonewall Jackson?

Some Southern Presbyterians who held a “spirituality” view (such as B. B. Warfield’s father and grandfather) did oppose slavery on theological grounds.  In fact, his maternal grandfather did so as chairman of the Republican Convention that re-elected Abraham Lincoln, in opposition to his nephew, former Vice President of the United States and a Confederate general.  B. B. Warfield himself shared his father’s pro-abolition and “two kingdom” views and, at the turn of the twentieth century, wrote one of the most moving pleas for integration.  What if the church had been unified on the Word of God touching this crucial matter?

So to return to Professor Harinck’s arresting point:  Anyone who affirms the “two kingdoms” acknowledges Christ as the Lord of both.  Even through pagan rulers, Christ exercises his worldwide dominion.  We tell the principalities and powers not only that the church belongs to Christ, but that ultimately the world belongs to him as well and will not tolerate indefinitely the injustices of this age.  We address Caesar with confidence where the one greater than Caesar has spoken.  And yet addressing the magistrate in his or her public office can be done only “in cases extraordinary,” and “by humble petition.”  In any case, we encourage Caesar in his defense of justice and punishment of evil-doers.  More than this, we announce a law to which everyone is bound and a gospel by which even Neros may be reconciled to God and those they’ve offended.

To lodge the authority of the church in the mission that Jesus assigned to it seems restrictive and ineffective in transforming the world only if we forget that the gospel is the power of God unto salvation.  Are the preaching of the Word, the administration of the sacraments, and church discipline inconsequential in this great battle between the powers of this present evil age and the reign of Christ?  Or are churches powerless against the evil one precisely to the extent that they fail to fulfill their sacred mission?  The history of slavery, Jim Crow, segregation, and the racisms that still haunt our society teach us just how sorely we need the state and the church to carry out their distinct but often cobelligerent callings—the one as God’s minister of temporal justice and the latter as the ministry of everlasting life.

- See more at: http://www.whitehorseinn.org/blog/2013/09/06/two-kingdoms-and-slavery/#sthash.5DDFdF6M.dpuf

Does America Have a National Covenant With YHWH? No, We Do Not!

In his best selling 1977 book, The Light and the Glory:  Did God have a plan for America?, Peter Marshall writes:

That a drought could be broken, or an Indian attack averted, by corporate repentance is an idea that sounds alien to many Christians today.  Yet it was central to the faith which built this country, and is one of the most prominent, recurring themes in the Bible.  One of the most familiar examples is, "If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forigve their sin and heal their land" (2 Chronicles 7:14).

Accepting Marshall's untenable hermeneutic (he ignores the fact that God's "national" covenant was made with Israel only), it is quite common to hear well-intended Christians claim that America is a “Christian nation” and in doing so appeal to biblical passages such as that just cited by Marshall.  Because our Lord’s promise of divine protection is given to the church (Matthew 16:18), the temptation is ever-present for Christians to mistakenly assume that our Lord’s promise of protection extends beyond the church they attend to the national interests and policies of the nation in which they live.  God's plan for our nation properly falls under the category of "providence" not "covenant."

The claim that “God is on our side” often comes to fruition when politically active American evangelicals see themselves in a “culture war”–contending with secular-progressives for the soul of the nation.  In the heat of battle, Christians invoke covenant promises made by God to Israel, thinking these promises apply to the United States because they mistakenly believe that the United States has some sort of covenant relationship with YHWH as did Israel.  This tendency is one of the key indicators of the popular but erroneous assumption that American is a Christian nation because it was founded on “biblical principles” and therefore possesses a unique relationship to God, just as Israel did under the Old Covenant. 

But America has no national covenant with God, as did Israel under the covenant God made with his chosen people at Mount Sinai.  This fact presents a serious problem for those who assume that the promises God made to ancient Israel somehow apply to the United States.  Covenant promises of blessing and curse which were given to Israel in a particular biblical context cannot be applied to contemporary political issues given the role such covenant blessings and curses played in Israel’s unique history.  

One such example of applying these covenant promises to modern America can be found on the website for the National Day of Prayer, where we read the following (echoing the previous words of Peter Marshall):

Our goal is to see communities transformed across America.  That happens one family at a time.  We know lives are being changed. We see the reports and statistics everyday (read Answered Prayer).  We pray in expectation knowing that God can and will make a difference if we seek Him, turn from our ways and repent (II Chronicles 7:14).

The stated desire of the national day of prayer is the transformation of communities and individuals.  Biblical support is taken from 2 Chronicles 7:14.  sadly, this passage is cited apart from any consideration of the redemptive-historical context in which the verse originally appears–the dedication of Solomon’s temple (2 Chronicles 6-7), specifically God’s private revelation to Solomon after the public manifestation of fire in the previous verses (2 Chronicles 7:1-3).
   
If America's founding fathers could repent and seek the face of God, as instructed by the Chronicler, so as to avoid drought or Indian attack, why shouldn't we?  Marshall's plea has been heard by many.  Those who see themselves in the midst of a culture war, or who are seeking a national revival, often affirm that if only God’s people living in America would act upon the covenant promises God made to Israel in 2 Chronicles 7:14, then God would spare our nation from some impending calamity–usually the election of some disagreeable political figure, or the passage of some worrisome piece of legislation, or a high court decision which is perceived to undermine Judeo-Christian values.  If God made this promise to Israel during the days of Solomon, then he is still making this promise to Christians who live in America today.  Right?

The invocation of 2 Chronicles 7:14, closely parallels warnings made by certain dispensationalists, who see the end-times centering around God’s program for national Israel.  Biblical passages which speak of covenant blessings and curses coming upon Israel’s enemies (i.e., Genesis 12:3), are interpreted to mean that unless the United States support the modern nation of Israel (specifically in terms of the land promise given to the physical descendants of Abraham), America risks coming under God’s judgment.  As one prominent evangelical in Congress contends,

I am convinced in my heart and in my mind that if the United States fails to stand with Israel, that is the end of the United States . . . [W]e have to show that we are inextricably entwined, that as a nation we have been blessed because of our relationship with Israel, and if we reject Israel, then there is a curse that comes into play. . . . We believe very strongly the verse from Genesis [Genesis 12:3], we believe very strongly that nations also receive blessings as they bless Israel. It is a strong and beautiful principle [From a speech given by Congresswoman Michele Bachman in February 2010 to the Republican Jewish Coalition].

Although it is believed that God’s promise to those who protect Israel applies primarily to matters of the on-going Israeli-Palestinian conundrum, biblical passages referring to Israel (or to Abraham) under the Old Covenant are applied to contemporary events without the slightest hesitation.  In light of Israel’s quite unique role in redemptive history, this kind of application should give us great pause.

If by “Christian nation” we mean that America has some sort of theological charter or covenant with God as set forth in a biblical passage such as 2 Chronicles 7:14, we are sadly mistaken.  2 Chronicles 7:14 applied to Israel in the days of Solomon when God’s glory filled the temple he had just dedicated to YHWH.  Passages such as this one are invoked the way they are because of a serious theological misunderstanding–the confusion of promises made regarding the kingdom of God with God’s providential purposes for the civil kingdom.  Unless we are willing to rip the passage from its context, it cannot be invoked as a promise applying to modern America.  In terms of our national relationship to God, America is every bit as “secular” as is Saudi Arabia, Iran, China, or even Israel, for that matter.  America is not a divinely-ordained theocracy with either national promises or threatened curses as was true of Israel.

The reality is that the promise found in 2 Chronicles 7:14 has nothing whatsoever to do with a national revival or the current fortunes of the United States.  It has everything to do with the dedication of Solomon’s temple nearly 3000 years ago.

The Laws of Moses in the Hands of the City Council

Herbert W. Schneider, who is no friend of Christianity, makes an interesting observation in his widely-used philosophy text, A History of American Philosophy (New York:  Columbia University Press, 1946).

Schneider observes, “as the New England church covenants gradually became secularized and were increasingly indistinguishable from the town ordinances, the `standing order’ (as the New England theocracy was called) was put on the defensive and resisted the growth of both political and religious individualism” (12).

Schneider's comment raises the question of what actually happened in those specific cases where Christians succeeded in governing themselves and others in the civil kingdom by legislating particular laws of Moses, as in the historical scenario Schneider describes above.  Could it be that when this happened another law raised its head--the law of unintended consequences?

Fleshing out Schneider's point a bit may help to illustrate the fact that legislating “biblical” morality in the civil kingdom often serves to aid the process of secularization--the very thing those seeking to implement biblical legislation are trying to avoid.  There are four things we ought to consider in this regard. 

First, when the Ten Commandments are applied to the civil kingdom, they must be removed from their redemptive-historical context and then re-written by legislators so as to conform to the community's standard--this is the first and inevitable step toward the secularization of those same laws.  Apart from a "general equity," Israel's theocratic kingdom was never intended to be a model for secular civil government.

Take, for example, Sabbath legislation (the fourth commandment, and part of the so-called first table of the law).  What happened when Christians succeeded in passing laws which mandated that no commerce be conducted in a given community on Sunday?  For a Christian, the Lord's Day has profound theological significance as a day of "festive rest," and as a foretaste of the eternal Sabbath rest yet to come.  We see the Lord's Day as a wonderful gift from God, not as a burden.

I dare say, non-Christians see the same legislation quite differently.  Sabbath legislation (the chief of the so-called "blue laws") interferes with their businesses, their pursuit of pleasure, and their personal freedom.  As such, many came to regard such legislation as coercive--people were forced to rest on Sunday, precisely because such legislation has no explanatory theological context for them.  Lacking that context, Sabbath legislation makes non-Christians hostile to those who force their religious practices on others.  It is not an accident that the blow-back from non-Christians was especially pronounced in those communities where Moses (and Israel's divine theocracy) figured prominently in a city's penal code (Schneider's point).   

That said, it is true that the moral law is binding upon all people (Romans 2:14-15).  Therefore, ought not we (as Christians) be satisfied when we are free from government legislation (or interference) which would seek to prevent us from closing our businesses on Sundays, from devoting ourselves to word and sacrament on the Lord's Day, and from enjoying Sunday as a day of rest?  The fact is, we are free to do so, and in many cases the state or secular employers recognize our freedom to worship as we see fit. 

Here's the theological rub raised by Schneider's observation.  Must others enjoy this day too?  Yes, they must.  Given the moral law's function as the "teacher of sin," all will answer to their creator for their violations of the moral law.  But how do non-Christians understand they are still breaking God's Sabbath commandment (their refusal to acknowledge the rest from our works that was secured for us by Jesus in his redemptive work as the Lord of the Sabbath), even when they do not open their businesses on Sunday, and when they mistakenly feel as though all is well because they obey the town's "standing order"?  Civic righteousness--which many non-Christians possess--is not a justifying righteousness.  The law loses its power when it becomes a mere community standard.  It no longer exposes sin and drives us to Christ.

Second, when the specific application of such legislation inevitably moves to the civil courts for adjudication in those instances where laws are violated (say when someone opens his store on Sunday, and is then arrested and fined), the case is handled by a secular court, and by secular officials.  Again, in a court there is no biblical context for taking Sunday as a day of rest.  Image the scenario which often played out in the New England of Schneider's description.  What happens to the law of Moses in the hands of a New England judge who happens to be a deist, or a Unitarian?  What happens when an unregenerate, yet moral group of citizens, weighs in on whether or not such a law is just.  Frankly, this did not work out the way Christians originally intended that it would.  The aim of law in the civil kingdom is civic righteousness (i.e. good citizens), peace, and the rule of law.  Ironically, passing "Mosaic" legislation may not enhance civic righteousness, and actually work against it, since this puts a non-Christian in the role as arbiter of God's original saving purposes, which they do not, and indeed cannot understand.

The reality is that we live in a nation at a time and place when our laws (by and large) are already codified and in force.  To talk about the ideal can be a waste of time--especially when the ideal will never conform to the reality.  Yet, discussing the ideal may help us understand what is at stake in the future.  In this light, we can say that it would be a good thing for the citizens of a given community to draft future legislation (with Christians whole-heartedly participating in the process as citizens), and which gives Christians the freedom to interpret and apply the first table of the law in the proper religious context (the church, and its God-given keys).  But then, the same would hold true for Jews, Muslims, and others.  At the same time, and as far as possible, the second table of the law must be duly considered to protect life, liberty, and private property. 

Third, those who reject the authority of Scripture, the exclusivity of Christianity, the biblical teaching regarding human sin, the doctrine of the Trinity, the deity of Christ, and the necessity of redemption by a Savior dying upon a cross who then rose from the dead, will resist such religious laws whenever the proper redemptive historical context is mentioned.  Christians see the law of Moses as the rule of sin and the teacher of gratitude.  The law serves a vital function and is necessarily connected to the Gospel.  But non-Christians see these laws as an outdated relic of the past, as a burden, a nuisance, and as binding their consciences to something they do not believe.  To invoke the name of Jesus in the civil kingdom is to ask for trouble--perhaps this is the case because too often Christians present Jesus to those interested in civic righteousness as a new Moses (essentially a law-giver, i.e., the social justice Jesus of the Christian left, or the spoil-sport Jesus of the Christian right).  Perhaps Jesus would not be so easily misunderstood if Christians presented him as "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world."  Non-Christians will always be offended by Jesus--I know that.  But let them be offended by the Jesus of the Bible, and not the Jesus of much of American Christianity.  

Finally, when the law of unintended consequences rears it head, Christians often find themselves tempted to compromise their own moral commitments--so as to make "Christian" legislation palatable to non-Christian citizens, or to avoid the kind of situations described above.  No doubt, Christians are also tempted to retreat back into the church and avoid (or depreciate) their civic responsibilities, or create their own religious communities, so as to preserve conscience, and to nurse their wounded pride, which has been made sore from the blows inflicted upon them by the non-Christians who vehemently object to Christian involvement in the public square.

Schneider and many others (see, for example, my short review of the biography of Henry Beecher by Debby Applegate -- Beecher Biography) make a case that the Calvinism of New England Congregationalism was quickly in full retreat in the face of German Idealism (i.e., Schleiermacher) and with the rise of Transcendentalism.  Both of these philosophies emphasized personal freedom in all matters of religion, and each stressed (in different, but related ways) an epistemological justification arising directly from religious experience. 

Calvinism's stress on a sovereign God, as well as guilt before God and the bondage of humanity to sin (both Adamic and personal) was seen as the problem in a New England which grew increasing hostile to all forms of Christian moralism--especially when it came from Calvinists.

Whenever Calvinism (in its American varieties) becomes preoccupied with legislating "the standing order" and sees its reason to exist as transforming or "Christianizing" the community, we pick a fight we will inevitably lose.  This is not because Calvinism is flawed, nor because the law of God has no power.  This is because Christianity always has a greater impact when Christians are preoccupied with fulfilling the great commission, and not confusing that commission with the cultural mandate.  

And so I ask, is it not better, on the one hand, for Christians to seek to be good citizens in the civil kingdom (i.e., we vote according to conscience, we seek to make our communities better and safer for all, etc.), and on the other, to keep Moses right where he belongs--as that Old Testament mediator who points us to Christ.  Moses does not fare very well in the hands of a city council, or a Congress.

More importantly, this leaves plenty of room in the civil kingdom to appeal to the moral law (held in common by most) to govern ourselves, without compromising the redemptive-historical context in which God revealed his law to Moses and to his covenant people, Israel.  We are far better off doing that, than in seeking to create a "standing order" in the civil kingdom.

From Biblical Metaphor to National Myth

For those of you interested in American church history and/or modern politics in light of the two kingdoms debate, you will certainly profit from Richard Gamble's recent book, In Search of the City on a Hill:  The Making and Unmaking of an American Myth.  You can find Gamble's book on Amazon here.

Gamble discusses in great detail the historical context for John Winthrop's famous 1630 sermon "A Model of Christian Charity" given onboard the Arbella before his group arrived in the New World.  As Gamble points out, near the end of his famous sermon Winthrop used the image of a "city on a hill" (found in Matthew 5:14) in a very conventional and biblical way (as an image of the church's witness and pastoral ministry).  Winthrop intended far less by his use of this metaphor than many have assumed. 

How then did this simple biblical image (as used by Winthrop) become such a powerful and ubiquitous political metaphor (dare I say political "myth") in which America (and American exceptionalism) is now, supposedly, the proper point of reference?  Gamble carefully explains the three hundred year evolution of the biblical metaphor into a uniquely American national myth.  The story may not be pretty to those who care about how Scripture is to be handled and interpreted, but it is certainly interesting nonetheless.

One particularly important point in Gamble's volume is his discussion of the use of the "city on a hill" metaphor by several early Puritans (and folk like Jonathan Edwards).  The "city on a hill" image was invoked as support for the supposed existence of a national covenant between God's chosen people living in America (the church) who served as a light to the world.  It was argued that God's providential purpose for America's founding was similar to Israel's role as God's national covenant people under the old covenant.  Gamble discusses the merits (few) and demerits (many) of this view, and points out that at the time a number of seventeenth contemporaries argued against this misuse of national covenant language.  Israel had a national covenant with God.  America does not.  Nor do Christians living in America then or now!  Being members of the covenant of grace in the midst of the civil kingdom will have to do!

This is an interesting and important book and is highly recommended.

There is a helpful interview with the author here:  Interview with Richard Gamble