When I was in Pentecostal circles the most significant holiday on the calendar may have been Pentecost(al) Sunday, which rivaled Christmas and eclipsed Easter in hype. Sometimes the emphasis was on the democratizing work of the Holy Spirit in Jerusalem a couple thousand years ago, but more often than that it was on the birth of the Pentecostal Movement about one hundred years ago. I don’t consider myself Pentecostal anymore, but I am grateful for the moving and shaking brought by Pentecostalism to Christianity. That being said, what happened at Azusa Street in 1906 doesn’t seem to me to be superior to what happened on the Day of Pentecost after Jesus’ ascension. I fear that sometimes Pentecostals forget what the Spirit has done by bringing millions of people into the family of God over the last two thousand years. Instead, they celebrate what makes them different from Roman Catholics, Anglicans, Baptists, and everyone else whom they don’t consider to be “Spirit-filled”.
Likewise, when I see how some speak of Reformation Sunday it worries me that it is far too easy to move from glorifying God to celebrating ourselves. My local church did not mention Reformation Sunday at all, so I am not speaking first hand here, but I am cautioning. How ironic would it be that a church spends a Sunday rejoicing over how they found a more correct doctrine than their Roman Catholic neighbors while the Catholics down the street celebrate Eucharist, consuming our Lord Jesus Christ, worshiping him.
Whatever may be special about Reformation Sunday must come back to Christ. It cannot be a celebration of schism. That aspect must be mourned. We must pray for Christ’s body to be one, even if that is merely an eschatological hope at this juncture. Nothing comes to mind at this moment, but I do ask churches who celebrate Reformation Sunday (which seems to be growing in popularity if social media is any indication of trends) to make sure that this day doesn’t turn into one where we pat ourselves on the back for being “right” while being wrong about how this day should be remembered. For those who respect and honor Calvin, Knox, Luther, Wycliffe, Zwingli, and others must remember that they were fighting for the church to return from corruption to Christ. If Christ is the center of your Reformation Sunday, celebrate! If not, reconsider.
To balance out my post on why I am not a Oneness Pentecostal (here), I will give some reasons as to why I am Catholic. First some background. I was born into the Catholic church, baptized as an infant only a few months old. I was never catechized in my youth, and sporadically practiced my faith. Yet, I was always intrigued by God. In my teen years, I fell into the world until I was 22 years old, when I decided I needed to get right with God. At that time, I was part of a charismatic Catholic group in the Philippines (Bukas Loob sa Diyos [Open in Spirit to God]). On June 30, 2002, I received what Pentecostals would call the baptism of the Holy Spirit.
When I returned to the Seattle area, the only people I knew were Oneness Pentecostals (teen friends with whose church I had experience). Because of the similarities in beliefs about the Holy Spirit, I easily made the transition. I will not recount my Oneness experience here since I have done so briefly in aforementioned post. Because of my studies in seminary, I decided to investigate and eventually return to the Catholic church. Below are a few reasons I am now Catholic. Once again, this is not an exhaustive list, but it highlights some of the more influential factors on my decision to come home to Rome.
Church Fathers. As I read some of the church fathers for church history, I began to realize that of which the church spoke sounded much like the Catholic church. For example, St. Ignatius’s reference to the Eucharist as the “medicine of immortality” accorded well with the Church’s teaching on the Eucharist as a sacrament. The recitation of the Nicene Creed (and the Apostles’ Creed during such devotions like the rosary) during Mass harkens back to that ecumenical council, which the Fathers defended.
Mystics Tradition. The Catholic church (as well as the Orthodox) have a strong line of mystics, those who are greatly in touch with and live out the love of God. At George Fox Evangelical Seminary, I learned about contemplative prayer, and found myself wired to this way of praying. In my exploration of contemplative prayer, I found that the most in-depth works on it were by St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila. I also took a class called Spirituality and the Writings of the Mystics where I noticed that most of the writings on contemplative prayer came from Catholic mystics. Many of those whom I have read and who have experienced genuine contemplation today are Catholics (here). The Catholic church seems to be a good place for one who is inclined toward mysticism, such as myself.
The View of Some Jews. A woman with whom I attended the same Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults is Jewish. When she told her parents of her decision to become Catholic, they were quite happy for her, saying that the Catholic church is the closest in Christianity to Judaism. I have also heard from other Jews that if they were to become Christian, they would become Catholics.
The Charismatic Movement. As I mentioned above, I came back to God through a charismatic Catholic group. When I was thinking of returning to Catholicism again, I began to research the charismatic movement in the Catholic church. I came to find that, the Catholic church has embraced the charismatic work and acknowledged its validity. Pentecostal spirituality has many important aspects, and many of them can be found in the charismatic Catholic movement. The “fullness of the Spirit” that some (sectarian) Pentecostal groups want to claim is not exclusively theirs.
The Connection to Eastern Christianity. Before coming back to Catholicism, I was looking into the Orthodox church. I had attended Vespers for months until my work on my thesis prevented me from attending often. Through some Catholic forums, I found out about the Eastern Catholic churches and how Blessed John Paul II, when he was pope, encouraged the Eastern churches to de-Latinize and retain their culture. After some research, I found that some Eastern churches in the area and I attended a Byzantine Catholic church Vesper and Divine Liturgy this month (June 2011). It was virtually like the Orthodox: the entire Liturgy was chanted, it had the iconostasis, communion was administered in the same way, there was the antidoron bread (bread that is blessed but is not used as Eucharist), and so forth. What was awesome to me was that there were prayers for Pope Benedict during the Liturgy and that I could receive the Eucharist because I am Catholic. The Eastern and Western aspects to Catholicism make it a truly universal church.
Well, maybe this will help you understand his method and approach.
Some time ago Jim West posted a reflection on Matthias Grünewald’s crucifixion scene from the Isenheim Alter Piece. As Jim noted Karl Barth had this picture hanging over his desk…
On the wall behind him hovered a reproduction of Matthias Grunewald’s ‘Crucifixion‘ scene from the Isenheim Altar. I believe this piece of art was the perfect symbol for Barth’s work. Pointing at Jesus, uttering the words ‘He must increase, and I must decrease’, is John the Baptist. This really was Barth’s motto- ilum oportet crescere, me autem minui. It’s the motto of all authentic Christian Theologians as well.
I have loved this picture since I first laid eyes on it. If my memory serves me correctly I was in a class at seminary and my lecturer was no doubt talking (passionately) about Barth. I knew very little about the piece, but I loved what it symbolised. Some years later my wife and I were returning from India and we were meant to enjoy stopover in Malaysia however, we both suffered “Bombay belly” and spent several days inside the hotel recovering. While channel surfing I came across a documentary on the Isenheim Alter Piece. Among the many fascinating things that stood out to me about the picture’s history was the fact it was painted for a hospital specialising in skin diseases and if you look closely at the picture you will notice Jesus’ body is covered in sores and wounds. It was a constant reminder to those for whom it was painted that Jesus suffers with those who suffer…
On a personal level it is not so much the image of Christ in the picture that inspires me and helps us understand Barth. It is the picture of John the Baptist standing to the right of Jesus. In one hand he has the Scriptures while his other hand is outstretched towards the cross. With one hand on God’s word and the other arm, with its elongated finger extended towards Christ, I am reminded and encouraged by what I think is the perfect metaphor for faithful preaching and teaching. I am also given an insight into how Barth wrote and understood his own theological pilgrimage.
If you want to understand Barth don’t read about him, actually read through his Dogmatics. But may I encourage you to do so with this picture in mind (the Baptist specifically). I guarantee you will soon appreciate what it is Barth is saying (even if you do not agree). At every point Barth seeks to be like the Baptist, pointing us to Christ. I can think of no greater act for a pastor!
Shortly after my conversion to Christ in 2002 in the charismatic movement of the Catholic church, I became affiliated with the United Pentecostal Church International (UPCI), a Oneness Pentecostal group that broke away from the Assemblies of God over the New Issue of baptism, which ultimately led to the denial of the doctrine of the Trinity and the upholding of Acts 2:38 as the plan of salvation. In 2003, I officially became part of a UPCI church and started my journey toward knowing more fully Christ. I earned a degree at one of the UPCI-endorsed Bible colleges. I appreciate all that took place in that time—the friends I made and the spiritual and academic foundation that was laid—and how I grew in grace in that time period.
Now, eight years since I became a Christian and toward the end of my MA degree from a well-respected seminary, I am no longer a Oneness Pentecostal. Some have attributed this change to my going to seminary. This is certainly not the case, although seminary has played a role in helping me to broaden my understanding of Christianity, both past and present. Contrary to these claims, a few reasons that I left the UPCI, which I shall briefly detail below, are the result of personal study and long reflection on church history, experience, and Scripture. Seminary gave me the tools and the freedom to study for myself, but it did not make those decisions for me. What follows is, of course, not an exhaustive set of reasons for why I am not a Oneness Pentecostal anymore.
My interest in church history spans the apostolic period to the Chalcedon council. Part of the problem I ran into as a Oneness Pentecostal was the ecumenical declarations against the Oneness doctrine I held. For example, modalism had been condemned. Now, even though I did not hold to a Sabellian-type modalism, the modalism to which I did hold had already been written against by the ante-Nicene Fathers. In short, however the Fathers were describing the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, it looked nothing like the Oneness view in its various flavors.
In addition to other things, Oneness Pentecostals believe that one must receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, evidenced by speaking in tongues, to be saved. Those Oneness people that I know had a pre-set formula to “pray someone through” to receive the Holy Spirit. Someone would coach the Holy Spirit seeker with a formula that went something like this: (1) pray that God would forgive you; (2) now that He has forgiven you, rejoice and praise God; (3) keep praising God until the feeling begins to overflow within you; (4) as soon as the overflow begins to reach your mouth, let your tongue go. If all of those steps are done correctly, then one will speak in tongues. Most of the time, however, it takes many tries with this formula for the speaker to finally speak in tongues. I am not one to cast doubt on the legitimacy of whether a person speaks in tongues using the formula; I believe that many have. This formula, however, is at odds with my experience (and the experience of the hundreds of others that same day), where I did not need to be coached. When I spoke in tongues for the first time, all I did was stood up and praised God, and He gave me the utterance to speak in other tongues—no coaching, no formula, and no waiting around. What most Oneness Pentecostals would find odd is that I first spoke in tongues at a charismatic Catholic service. To attest to the validity of the work of the Spirit in me that day, I was delivered the day I spoke in tongues from my use of crystal methamphetamines and I worked in the gift of discerning of spirits the very next day.
I believe that speaking in tongues is a good thing. However, I do not believe that if someone has never spoken in tongues then he or she is not saved. Instead, I concur with the major theme of the New Testament that a person who genuinely is filled with and walks in the Spirit is one who loves both God and neighbor. Among those whom I know, there seem to be more who have not spoken in tongues and yet are overcoming sin and exhibiting true, godly love compared to Oneness people I know who have spoken in tongues.
My third point of departure with the Oneness group came through a study of Scripture. While I was at Bible college, I learned of ways to sidestep Scripture passages that dealt with the Son’s preexistence, with the interaction between the Father and the Son, as well as sidestep the language that clearly showed the Holy Spirit as distinct from both the Father and the Son. As I reflect back, I could see that my theology professor’s view of Oneness theology borrowed from much of Trinitarian theology while seemingly presenting these theological nuances as exclusive to Oneness. Although he meant well and sought to further develop Oneness theology, the adoption of ideas from and the lack of proper teaching on Trinitarian theology seems to indicate that even he knew the truth that Trinitarian theology upheld. Even though I have always admired Oneness Pentecostals for their devotion to the oneness of God, such devotion is misguided when it does not line up with Scripture and has been rejected by the ecumenical councils that have defined the Trinitarian position from both Scripture and the broad teaching of the church in the early centuries.
I harbor no ill feelings toward the Oneness Pentecostal movement. Many of my close friends still today are Oneness Pentecostals. I have gratitude for the spiritual tenacity that the Oneness movement possesses because it was at a Oneness Bible college and church that I learned to draw closer to God. Yet, I cannot be a part of a movement that sets itself up having a monopoly on the nature of God, on holiness standards, and on salvation. I am afraid that because the Oneness movement has pushed itself away from the broader church and relies upon its own private Scriptural insights that it has missed the fact that God has called and saved a universal church larger than the Oneness movement to be holy and conformed to the image of the Son.
One of the amazing things about being in Rome last week was seeing the by-gone glory of the Roman Empire right next to the memorials of Christendom, both past and present. While I was in the Roman Colosseum there was a point when I could peer over at the Arch of Constantine. In the Colosseum legend tells us Christians may have been tortured and killed as enemies of the state. At the Arch of Constantine we remember the military victory of the first emperor of Rome to legalize Christianity.
I tend to be one who thinks negatively of Constantine. Yet I have often asked myself how I would see him if I had been a Roman Christian in that day. As an American Christian there has never been a time in my life where I was under a hostile government that didn’t allow me to live religiously. Would I have viewed Constantine differently if I went from persecuted minority to someone who could both worship Christ and not worry about persecution? Probably.
These two symbols of Christianity threatened and Christianity vindicated represent an internal tension within me. Do I think my faith has lost some of its original vision once it became vogue? Yes. Do I want to experience what my brothers and sisters in places like Afghanistan, China, or Iraq experience? No, not at all. I love/hate what happened to Christianity after Constantine. I am not sure if I will ever resolve this.
I have been thinking recently about the place of church history in the life of the typical church congregant. It feels like the history of the church gets very little exposure outside of the lecture halls of seminaries and universities. This could be a missed opportunity.
I currently am only beginning to explore the world of church history and have already gained a lot from this study. Knowledge of some of the struggles that men such as Athanasius and Gregory of Nyssa went through to protect orthodoxy is inspiring. I have also noticed that many heresies that are alive today are only small variations on those that existed thousands of years ago. This could be valuable knowledge for all believers.
My question is this: Do you feel that church history can be meaningfully incorporated into church life? I think that a class outlining some of the key moments and important individuals involved could help a believer to better appreciate how God has kept his church and truth alive throughout time. I would love to read what both pastors and church congregants think of this.
Earlier today Anthony Bradley wrote the following (see here):
While I know many Protestants will not find this popular there is something about this with which I agree. Obviously, since I am not a Roman Catholic there must be something about the Reformation that I affirm. Nevertheless, though I am not a Catholic this does not mean that I am not catholic. I am thankful for the reform that occurred in the church, but I am not sure that I am willing to celebrate considering it resulted in a schism.
As Bradley notes one of the few “quoted” prayers we have from the mouth of Jesus is found in John 17.20-23 which reads:
My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. (NIV)
Unless we Protestant are willing to denounce our Catholic brothers and sisters as heretical, and unless Catholics are willing to denounce us Protestant brothers and sisters as heretical, there is really no self-justification for not trying to come as close together as possible. Yes, we disagree on how the Eucharist functions, but we affirm the Eucharist, we affirm the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ. We were all baptized into one Spirit. When I ponder this there is only one way that I can celebrate Reformation Day: God, make us one as your Son, Jesus Christ, prayed.
Update: Fourteen years ago Stan Hauerwas said something similar. See here.
