A few prefatory comments: this is inside baseball that readers who do not share my background will not understand; the FBFI is my “denomination.” It is one of the institutions that is trying to preserve the heritage I was handed. And I’ve had legitimate concerns about it for a long time—along with genuine appreciation for what it has given me. Every time I have expected that my legitimate concerns about it would boil over in frustration or get me run out on a rail, another door has opened in front of me to speak to those concerns, to build a bridge between groups within the group, especially between generations. I’m certain not everyone who heard me at the annual fellowship agreed with me on all my points, but all responses were gracious, and some were enthusiastic (particularly but not only from those in my generation). Dr. Bob Jones III, who attended the talk, wrote me a very nice note humbly thanking me for my insight and expressing grandfatherly pride in a BJU graduate. That meant a lot to me (though this does not mean Dr. Bob endorsed everything I had to say).
Other people were born or brought into the SBC; others the AG; others the RPCNA or the FPCNA—or one of countless other Christian denominations, each of which has strengths and weaknesses. Christ’s counsel to people who found themselves in one troubled local church, that of Sardis, was to “strengthen what remains.” And in general, that’s what I say to people in other evangelical denominations. (Those in apostate groups, such as the PCUSA, get a different biblical message: “Come out from among them and be separate, and touch not the unclean thing.”) If it proves they can make no headway strengthening what remains, or if for various reasons the Lord moves them on, I’d welcome them to my own group, to share in our strengths and to work on our weaknesses. I think our strengths are strong. But in order to enjoy those strengths, I’ve got to bear with the infirmities of our weaknesses, as it were.
People always think more about how new ground can be broken than they think about how existing institutions can be sustained or existing facilities can be maintained. It leads to a constant trap where we underinvest in old things, then old things disappoint us, then we feel a need for new things, then to satisfy that need for new things we under-invest more in old things and the cycle goes on.… I think the fetish of novelty and the lack of glamor of maintaining and sustaining things is a besetting problem.
That’s the way I feel about how people my age are treating my denomination. If all the people who are frustrated with it but still generally appreciative of what it gave them would jump in and get involved, it could be a stronger place.
So, without further ado, here’s an audio recording, and below it, the full text of the address. (My talk followed an excellent plenary session from Dr. David Saxon on generational differences, hence the opening comments in the audio.) If you get a chance to listen to the audio, that’s the best way to experience the talk: you’ll get to hear the responses of my small audience (60ish people the first day, the day of this recording, 35ish the second day).
The best thing about owning a church web and logo design business on the side is getting to know pastors and their ministries. I have designed and hosted websites for multiple fundamentalist churches, and after Mike Harding invited me to speak on “The Legitimate Concerns of the Next Generation (An Objective Analysis),” I asked one of my clients, Craig Hartman, whom I consider a respected friend, who has given me key personal career counsel, whom I’ve come to love after many phone conversations—and who authorized me to tell this story—I asked him, “What are the legitimate concerns of the next generation in our crowd?”
Dr. Hartman’s passionate Brooklyn accent of was in full force when he replied to me on the phone, “There are no ‘legitimate’ concerns!” I confess I was a little disappointed, because I felt that his response didn’t bode well for my talk today. Either he’s right and there are no legitimate concerns and my talk is not only needless but itself likely sinful; or he’s wrong, and there will be men I respect like him who feel the same way he does, meaning I have an uphill climb. Either way, I was in for trouble.
But we kept talking, and that did bode well. I kept asking questions and Dr. Hartman kept responding openly and honestly. Later in an hour-plus talk, he told me a little story. He said he had spoken to a regional FBFI gathering not long ago. He told them that a lot of them had been misusing a passage of Scripture, namely 2 Chronicles 7:14: “If my people which are called by my name, shall humble themselves…” He beseeched them, lovingly, to see that the statement does not and cannot refer to America. He said, “If we’re going to fault allegorists, we ought not do the same thing ourselves if we want our argument to be heard.” He gave contextual reasons from the passage why this interpretation was wrong. I later listened to his message: it was excellent. Dr. Hartman, a converted Jewish man and a heart for his people who is now in Israel (and gives his regrets for not being present), told me that he was concerned that the incorrect exegetical approach to the Old Testament found too often in our circles undermines the doctrines we say we believe. He told me on the phone that he figured guys are just doing what they were taught.
I knew that, like a good lawyer, I had my witness pinned in the cross-ex. I said, “Dr. Hartman, I thought you said there were no legitimate concerns!” Like that rare breed, a smart and humble Christian, he just chuckled and said, “Okay, ya got me.” [UPDATE: He later explained—and I had indeed misunderstood him—that his first response had been purposefully hyperbolic.]
I think if you talk to anyone in the FBFI long enough, he or she will acknowledge some of the legitimate concerns I’ve been asked to raise. Precisely because we are fundamentalists, Bible people, we know that we are sinners. We know we have weaknesses. Not every blade of grass in our pasture is green.
With all due respect, and I sincerely mean that, the next generation does does have legitimate concerns. And a number of men and women in the older generation are going to have to get past their initial response—“There are no legitimate concerns!”—and think to themselves humbly in the words of Bob Jones Sr, “No doubt the trouble is with me,” or this session will be wasted for both of us. You’re going to have to do what Bob Jones III did really well in a recent issue of FrontLine and think hard about how you can serve the next generation by addressing their concerns.
Listen, I think the older generation has legitimate concerns about the younger generation, too! I tried to speak to some of those in that recent issue of FrontLine, which I co-edited with Kevin Schaal. We younger guys are laissez faire about institutions, arrogant about our superior knowledge of technology, beholden in some ways we can’t always see to terminological fads, and, yes, often dismissive of people who are eligible for AARP memberships. We act offended when the older generation scoffs at our gospel-centered Cheerios®. We’ve got our own problems.
But try to put yourself in my wingtips today. I feel genuine respect and gratitude for countless individuals older than me. I don’t want to fail to acknowledge the ministry faithfulness and fruitfulness of men who have gone before. I covet it greatly. Greatly. I pray for it. I’m not so immature as to think that I know better than they on all counts. I just know that in God’s providence, I was asked to represent the “legitimate concerns” of the younger generation. So I spoke to the young pastors on the phone, on Facebook, over email, in person, and through an online survey. And here, refracted I admit through my own viewpoint, is what they said. Here is what we say—in the form of three questions.
Why do the institutions of non-KJV-Only fundamentalism still insist on the use of the KJV?
Why are legalism and gracelessness such a common charge, even from those who’ve stayed “in”?
Why do so many young people support our general stance against worldliness and doctrinal compromise but view us as tribalistic?
In each case I’ll explore my question and try to offer a few practical steps toward solutions.
But I also want to pull out an old revivalist tactic and ask you a question before I launch into my three concerns: I want to ask you to pray silently to the Lord and tell him you are willing to change if he reveals any error in your thinking or practice. I am doing the same as I speak. Will you? Will you pray? Please do. Because there are only three ways for the generations to come together, and two of them are probably bad:
The older generation could conform to all the desires of the younger generation. I think that would be bad, not to mention impossible.
The younger generation could conform to all the desires of the older generation. That’s bad, too, not to mention impossible.
The generations will have to move toward each other. We will have to do something fundamentalists hate doing: we will have to compromise with each other.
That means for me to be successful today I will have to change almost everybody’s minds, young and old, and I’ll have to get rock-ribbed fundamentalists to compromise. Ouch. But I am attempting to be a peacemaker between generations by standing in between them and pulling them toward each other. I have hope that this is possible because Christ is powerful and is still head over his church.
1. Why do the institutions of non-KJV-Only fundamentalism still insist on the use of the KJV?
A son of GFA missionaries listed as his first “legitimate concern” about our crowd, “Continued preference for the KJV in spite of not being KJV-only.”
And I’m flummoxed. Our group has firmly and unequivocally condemned King James Onlyism ever since it became an -ism. BJU has always opposed it. And the FBFI has also done so for many years. This is from an official FBFI resolution in 1995:
Any attempt to make a particular English translation the only acceptable translation of Fundamentalism must be rejected.
I was a 14-year-old KJV-Only kid who’d never heard of the FBFI when the board wrote that. Now I’m a 37 not-KJV-Only not-kid who’s been in FBFI circles for 20 years. My generation just doesn’t understand why our supposedly non-KJV-Only institutions (again—not just the FBFI) still insist on the use of the KJV in public settings. My job for nine years was to write Bible textbooks for high school students, and the KJV was—to use a word Mark Minnick once used to describe the KJV—an “impediment” to my work. It isn’t always possible to explain Elizabethan English, as I discovered over and over. When you’re in the middle of a paragraph for ninth graders about eschatology, it’s very awkward to have to explain that “the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption” (Rom 8:21 KJV) actually means “the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption” (my translation). This is not a made-up example. Repeatedly I had to choose not to quote the Bible in my writing because I knew my readers would not understand the KJV.
Jim Berg is one of our most gifted Bible teachers in non-KJV-Only fundamentalism. And the Bible quotations in his books are dotted with brackets explaining KJV words to his readers. He apparently thinks they won’t understand the KJV without help. I checked with him, and he confirmed my interpretation of his brackets.
The KJV is not entirely unintelligible, but neither was the Latin Vulgate when it was translated. The Vulgate became unintelligible to normal people over time. The battle for a Bible in our language is not something you win once and then move on from; it’s a value you have to keep fighting for. The KJV is a revision of a revision of Tyndale’s work, so a good deal of it is 500 years old. English has changed a great deal in that time—as my new book, Authorized: The Use and Misuse of the King James Bible, has tried to show. Every besom, every chambering, every wantonness in the KJV is a “dead word” taken out of the hands of today’s readers. And the special burden of my book is to show that there are many “false friends” in the KJV, words we don’t even realize we’re misunderstanding—words that have changed their meaning in 400 years. Even a statement as simple as “Remove not the ancient landmark,” ironically, doesn’t mean what you think.
Paul in 1 Corinthians 14 ties edification to intelligibility. Reasonable people can disagree about how unintelligible a Bible translation should be permitted to become before we revise it or make a new one. But my generation is asking: why wouldn’t Bible people, of all people, be first in line to promote a more understandable but still accurate Bible? Why would evangelistic people make bus kids and our own kids learn Elizabethan English in order to read God’s Word? Particularly when the older generation has repeatedly insisted that they are not KJV-Only?
I’d love to see our crowd do what Fred Moritz recommended in a FrontLine letter to the editor last year:
[The] FBFI should have quit dancing around the KJV-only issue long ago.
We are fundamentalists. We’re supposed to have titanium backbones. Why do Clarence Sexton and Shelton Smith and Paul Chappell make our spines turn to jelly? It’s because of the masses they represent—masses to whom the KJV is a totem, a symbol of a set of values. When I proposed dropping our KJV-Only policy for FrontLine and conferences, a courteous FBFI board member shot straight with me, and I appreciated it: he said, “If I give in to the desire of younger people in my church to use the ESV, I feel like I’ll be indicating that I’m going to give in on other things, too. It’s a package deal.”
But it just can’t be; we can’t let it be. KJV-Onlyism is a direct challenge to the Bible-centered nature of fundamentalism, because it makes void the Word of God by our tradition—by forcing people to read that Word in a language they don’t and can’t fully understand. It also treats the KJV as perfect and inspired, as an act of divine revelation. This is very serious.
Kevin Schaal said at the Gospel Proclaimed conference, “We have a lot of fundamentalism that, whether ignorantly or deliberately, has stepped outside of the realm of [bibliological] orthodoxy.” And I’m thinking: we’re supposed to defer to them on precisely the point at which they’ve stepped outside orthodoxy? Schaal said, “We have to stand for…biblical truth about the Bible…. What we’re supposed to believe about the Word is what the Word says about the Word.” Amen.
KJV-Onlyism has picked a symbol of doctrinal faithfulness that has come to violate that doctrinal faithfulness. Ask them, as I have done: they won’t even change amongst to among; “You can’t change the Word of God,” one of them told me recently. They have built their institutions on the “perfectly preserved” KJV; they can’t change without splitting their churches and schools. Their movement is past the point of appeal.
Here’s what I think we should do:
Separate from KJV-Only institutions. No platform fellowship. As musician Ben Everson, who is himself KJV-Only, said on Facebook,
The two sides…will never meet. Never. Won’t happen. As an evangelist ministering in churches on both sides of this issue…. I’ve prayed with men on BOTH sides who simply can’t understand the other side and beg God to heal the rift.… These efforts simply can’t work. More than music or even Calvinism, the two underlying philosophies/theologies of Bible translation…are diametrically opposed to each other.
I have prayed those same prayers, and I agree with Ben. The debate is over. Compromising with KJV-Onlyism won’t win them; it will only drive young guys in our own circles away—and hurt our own evangelism and discipleship.
Nonetheless, we must adopt a compromise within our own not-KJV-Only crowd. Here’s what I propose: 1) I think the older generation should give liberty to men in our public gatherings and publications to use other good translations. And I’m not just talking about the FBFI; I’m talking about camps and colleges. A young pastor friend of mine just said to me this past week, “If our crowd could drop its KJV-Only policies, that would be huge for us.” Another said to me, “The younger generation wants their children to actually understand the verses they’re memorizing in AWANA.” And 2) I think the upcoming generation should do what I myself have done: stick with and continue to support non-KJV-Only fundamentalist institutions that nonetheless still feel they need some time. Every institutional leader is, understandably, afraid to make this move. I’m not demanding an instant decision. But I say to pastors and presidents: let 1 Corinthians 14 drive you on. Do right and let the stars fall.
2. Why are legalism and gracelessness such a common charge, even from those who’ve stayed “in”?
I have thought for a long while that Facebook could mean the death of our crowd’s institutions. That’s because social media hits us with a double whammy: 1) it shows us the worldly things our former campers and Bible college grads “like” ten and twenty years after we last saw them, which can be pretty discouraging; and 2) it lets us in on the terribly bitter things some of them are saying about us, the people who gave up jobs that actually paid US dollars so we could serve them. That, also, is disheartening. Now, I know countless godly and grateful people who are products of the same institutions that shaped me, but the naysayers are impossible to miss.
The disaffected have always smeared us with the charge of “legalist.” To them, we as a group have never “gotten” grace. And as long as it’s only the disaffected who are saying this, they’re easy to ignore, even if it does smart a bit.
But, friends, it’s not just the disaffected. It’s faithful pastors who told me that they have consistently failed to form connections with older nearby pastors in our circles, because those pastors can’t get past issues we all officially agree to be minor.
One young pastor who took my survey wrote,
I have immense respect for my heritage, for those who have loved and taught me over the years, and for so many who have poured their lives into mine, but it seems to me that many who gladly call themselves “fundamentalists” do not really know what it means to be one. The heart-breaking result of forgetting what the real “mountains” are is that each and every “molehill” has now become a “mountain.”
Surely, there are people who do this in every group. But perhaps we’d all acknowledge that this is more likely to be a problem with us than it is within the Protestant mainline? Our strength—doing what’s right no matter what others think—carries a concomitant weakness: we tire of the hard work of discovering when we ought to be flexible because the Bible allows for or even encourages it.
One pastor wrote in my survey,
Even though one of the qualifications of a shepherd is that he not be “quarrelsome,” it seems that many pastors within fundamentalism are actually proud of their ability and willingness to quarrel.
Another young man in our circles wrote me,
Fundamentalism seems to distinguish itself not necessarily as the group that “earnestly contends for the faith” but as the group that “earnestly contends for the faith” AND certain music/dress/social standards.
I tend to like those standards, and I dress conservatively and use traditional worship music in my church—but I feel the truth of this. We’ve let the applications of a previous era remain and have failed to rigorously distinguish between Bible statements and prudential decisions.
I’m now going to complicate matters by tying this issue of legalism to another hot-button: it’s the “New Calvinists” who are most likely to see legalism and gracelessness in their fundamentalist forebears. I think some of New Calvinists are being immature and unfair in making this charge, but I also remember something Dr. Bob Jones III said once in BJU Preacher Boys class. He was no fan of Calvinism, but he observed that it arose as a response to a great deal of man-centeredness in American Christianity, including in fundamentalism. I thought that was perceptive. Even if you don’t care for John Piper—or even Jonathan Edwards (same theology)—I think you should be alert to the possibility that there’s more than a grain of truth in the charge of “legalism” and even “Pharisaism” and “externalism.”
I don’t think those labels stick to our best leaders, like Mark Minnick and Kevin Bauder. Every single one of the (non-KJVO) fundamentalist leaders that I know well personally has been gracious to me, even in disagreement. But legalism in the group is a legitimate concern on the part of the next generation. We are more likely to be Calvinistic than the older generations in our circles. But if you’re not a Calvinist, I encourage you not to assume that every charge of “legalism” is traceable solely to differences over the “doctrines of grace.” Calvinists do not have a lock on grace; Calvinists don’t own it. Every true Christian has it, and is supposed to show it in our speech (Col 4:6) and in our treatment of others (Rom 14:1–4; Matt 7:1–2).
What do I propose we do about legalism and Calvinism?
I propose the older generation find a point of common ground with the New Calvinism and read a book I promise every true fundamentalist will love: Kevin DeYoung’s The Hole in Our Holiness. You’ll shock the Calvinist young people you know if you praise this book, and it will be a biblical bridge between you. As I read it, I found myself saying, “This is what my brand of fundamentalism at its best has always said.” I think most FBFI readers will conclude the same. This book is a great model for how to hold on to the all-important personal holiness our group values while filling it with the love that will ensure it does not become legalism.
I also propose that every FBFI member purpose in his heart not to defile himself with the idea that Calvinism and our brand of fundamentalism are incompatible—and here I speak to both old and young. John Vaughn wrote quite specifically in FrontLine as he stepped down from the FBFI presidency, “Calvinism…has always been a legitimate doctrinal position within Fundamentalism.” Fundamentalism has always been a coalition including Calvinists and Arminians. Neither has yet succeeded in evicting the other (though the KJVOs have indeed evicted all five tenants of Calvinism [ahem]); I hope we never comes to such a split. I’m willing to work with people who disagree with me over this issue, just like John Vaughn said I should be.
3. Why do so many young people support our general stance against worldliness and doctrinal compromise but view our arguments as tribalistic?
Pretty much anybody who has stuck around “our circles” supports our generally conservative stance on separation from the world and from disobedient brothers. We more or less like the doctrinal and practical places our movement has landed—but I sense among the young a general unease about the path we took to get to those places. At least we feel that the arguments that used to work don’t work anymore, and we’re afraid that tribalism has taken their place.
A young professional in an FBF-style church said in my survey:
I’m decidedly conservative in my music styles, especially for worship, but aside from [the] “don’t-worship-like-the-world” argument, none of the others have really been convincing in the long term. I really wonder how much of my position is merely tradition and preference, and I have a certain sympathy for people who no longer hold to the same standards. If I’m not convinced with the standard arguments, how can I expect them to be?
Particularly with regard to worldly worship music, but also with some other traditional abstinences like theater attendance, younger people feel as if we’ve been handed sociological totemic symbols of group identity—this is just the way we do things—rather than carefully wrought applications of biblical principle. With regard to music in particular, we as a group have done excessively little to man the barricades with real arguments. “Our” most recent books are a generation old. The lone exception—Scott Aniol’s books—isn’t enough. Where are our blogs and articles and books on this topic?
In the absence of argument, some of our separatist practices seems like turf-preservation and in-group loyalty tests rather than what they should be. In other words, again, our young people see us tribalistic, even when they agree with our basic stance.
One young man wrote:
Separation seems to have morphed into a self-congratulating isolationism.
I hasten to say that I think we have historically gotten key aspects of separation right, and that’s why I’m here. We argued our case well against Billy Graham’s ecumenical evangelism. Our case was clear; we were right.
But the line between good and evil doesn’t run between groups but right through every human heart. Graham was right in some key ways, too, and we ought to say so: Billy Graham’s racial integration of his crusades was an implicit indictment of our circles’ slowness to see the implications of the image of God in man. Being right about Graham’s compromises did not automatically place us on the side of the angels for all time.
And yet our crowd has often demanded institutional loyalty as if this were so. One very conservative young pastor wrote,
After working for over a decade in an institutional setting and now pastoring/church planting for over 5 years, I am much less loyal to an institution. I appreciate what I received. But the people I shepherd could care less where I graduated from. They are in such great spiritual need that all they care about is getting the food of the Word week in and week out. I fear that institutional loyalty and identity sometimes handicaps our ability to effectively disciple desperate people.
One of the most important diagnostic questions I’ve come across for combatting tribalism—for helping us understand our proper place in the Christian world is this: what if all of Christianity were like us? Would that be good or bad?
Some things would be great: there’d be no more Joel Osteen, Rob Bell, or Carl Lentz, no more rainbow flags on churches, no flimflam televangelists, no Left Behind movies, and no Precious Moments Bibles.
But I’m not prepared to wish for all Christianity to be like us. Because there’d also be no D.A. Carson, no John Frame, no C.S. Lewis, no Kevin DeYoung (the list could go on and on and on)—there would be very few people writing books and articles that open up Scripture with extreme depth or tackle the issues of the day with real insight. There’d be no Joe Carter or Marvin Olasky summarizing the news for us carefully and from a Christian perspective. No Crossway churning out solid lay-level books and works of evangelical biblical scholarship. No Bible translators bringing God’s words into English. Almost no one fighting liberalism in the academic sphere. No Alan Jacobs to be a public intellectual. I have disagreements with the men I’ve named, but Paul said in 1 Corinthians 3, “All are yours.” I see them as gifts to Christ’s body for such a time as this—gifts God did not give through fundamentalism.
We can’t exist alone. What would our shelves—what would our sermons—be like without other Christian groups?
If there’s one key way in which I and my generation differ from the older generation, it’s probably that we don’t see our crowd as the only legitimate choice available. As I wrote in a FrontLine article some time back,
I think there probably are sections of conservative evangelicalism where the ratio of brown to green grass is similar to what I experience in [my sliver of] fundamentalism. But God did not place me in those pastures. I write Bible study material and articles for all Christians, but I think that attempting to converge with them formally, institutionally, would invite new problems into my pasture without doing much to help my people—or theirs. That may change someday; visible unity with all true Christians must not become a forgotten ideal. But for now, the only place I know of where I can reliably get and promote…things I value is within the institutions of self-described fundamentalism.
Our style of fundamentalism is a good choice, even the best choice for many people. But it’s tribalism to think it’s the only permissible choice, or to assume something is right because we do it.
So my practical solution is to agree together to change our self-talk. We should by all means “magnify our office” by committing to give to the church what we have: our backbone, our desire for personal holiness, our evangelistic fervor. But we should also stop talking as if Christianity would solve all its problems if it would just be us. We have strengths; so do other groups.
God hates those who sow discord among brothers; I take this seriously when I call for separation. But I think one key move of separatism would go a long way toward convincing the next generation that we’re not just defending our tribe. And this brings us back to point 1: if we separate from KJV-Onlyism, we’ll show that we’re consistent instead of selective separatists—that we have a border on our right and not just our left. Everything we say about separatism from Scripture—2 These 3; Rom 16—could and should be applied to the men and institutions who are insisting that God has given us only one English Bible translation. In my experience, there are very few true moderates in that camp. Talking to even the most responsible men among them quickly becomes a game of whack-a-mole: they will not budge a millimeter from their doctrine. We’ve repeatedly told ourselves that the KJV is “not a separation issue,” but, funny enough, that’s not the way our KJV-Only brothers view the matter. For them it is THE separation issue. I think we need to respond in kind and stop tolerating their bibliological error.
Typically when we use th[e] word [“tribalism”], we use it to refer to a malformation of group identity, a group identity in which loyalty … to the people that you perceive as your in-group overrides everything else…. And so I think, if, for instance, you’re the sort of person who can be appropriately critical of your own in-group, and you can, at times, call people to account for higher and better standards of behavior, then that’s an indication of a group identity that is not tribalist, but if you defend what your people do no matter what… that’s… tribalism.
So this is good: you are part of a group that is willing to pay the airfare for a guy whose job it is to issue “Legitimate Concerns” about you to you. I was a little concerned that only people my age would show up, and that would make total sense. I don’t like to listen to people sharing legitimate concerns with me, let alone concerns I consider illegitimate. So I congratulate you for being here, because whether my prescriptions are right or wrong, I can say that the Bible repeatedly praises the wise for being willing to listen to “legitimate concerns.”
I just named the the three legitimate concerns of the next generation of (non-KJVO) fundamentalism as KJV-Onlyism, legalism/Calvinism, and separatism-as-tribalism. I named what I and a lot of people my age see as the 3.5 elephants in the room; and I offered some practical steps for bridge-building between generations on each issue.
I am not arguing that if you follow my practical steps, our brand of fundamentalism will suddenly become attractive to young people. I can’t and won’t promise that: everyone and his cousin is going to pick his or her favorite issues as The Solution to the exodus of the young. What I will say is that to make the changes I’ve suggested is biblical and right, no matter what the results are. That’s what fundamentalism taught me: do right, do right, do right.
Generations always see things a little differently, sometimes a lot differently. The reason I think the generational gap is particularly acute right now is that there are so few of the young guys left who want anything to do with “our” institutions, and the ones who are left have both very nice things to say about older fundamentalist individuals and, frankly, very cynical things to say about the group as a whole. A lot of those cynical things, I think, actually apply more to the KJV-Only sector of fundamentalism than to us gathered here. That’s a big reason I’m trying to drive a wedge between us and them.
But I’m not cynical about our crowd; I’m hopeful. I really did get so much good from my heritage, and so did all the people who took my survey. It is achingly hard for us—like it is for every group on the planet—to reevaluate our traditions at generational junctures, but it can be done.
Theologian Alastair Roberts has pointed out that important issues often “become snarled up in the instinctive antagonisms and alignments of a crowd.” This happens to us. But I actually believe us when we shout our most traditional tradition: we want to follow the Bible. What kind of group has the best chance of changing for the better, of standing on Bible principle against instinctive alignments of tribe? I genuinely hope it’s us, the group that believes in its bones that all Scripture is God-breathed and capable of equipping us for every good work.
So I want to end with two positives.
First, a quote from a BJU grad assistant pastor ministering sacrificially on a U.S. mission field, and who took my survey:
I observed a genuine walk with Christ by parents and older pastors, not hypocrisy. I was shown the importance of personal spiritual disciplines, “caught” the vital role of sanctification (particularly through Berg’s Changed Into His Image series), and absorbed a clear view of life under the sovereignty of God. I developed careful hermeneutical instincts.
In my current role as a Christian school teacher, I rub shoulders with pastors and believers from broader circles of evangelicalism. I have found that their devotion to Christ and love for others is a fantastic influence on me, but I have also found that their understanding and use of Scripture is subpar. This pattern will leave well-intentioned but unprepared future generations of Christians, loving but unstable. I am thankful to have been raised in and now to serve in the subset of fundamentalism where I find myself.
I firmly believe that there are many younger men who want to link arms with you, younger men like me who are not Rehoboam’s friends who want to further your work. But it will take concerted effort and difficult decisions on your part.
Second positive: I’ve been reading a book called Why Liberalism Failed by Patrick Deneen. He argues that the political order around us is disintegrating and will necessarily continue to do so, because liberalism has always contained the seeds of its own demise. He recommends “smaller, local forms of resistance to liberalism:… the building of resilient new cultures against the anticulture of liberalism.” Rod Dreher’s recent buzz book The Benedict Option recommends something similar.
Silently we’ve been doing this. We’ve been doing something that I think more and more true Christians are going to come to see as needful as our national culture degrades along a Romans 1 path. We’ve been constructing a culture of resistance, one in which kids don’t have to feel the pressure to recite the latest trivialities of an inane and promiscuous popular culture, one in which individualism isn’t allowed to go unchecked because we are Christ’s body, one in which women are treated with greater respect and care than in the secular world precisely because they are not regarded as wholly interchangeable with men, one in which we acknowledge a divine order in nature, one in which we don’t forget the identity of the Geist in the zeitgeist.
My alma mater was wrong to have its interracial dating ban, and that’s an awkward and difficult topic. But BJU also proved something for thirty years: Christian institutions don’t have to live on the government dole. When California cuts off funding to Christian colleges, and when some cave and make peace with perversity, a great shudder will run through all evangelicalism. Many will look for doctrinal backbone. I pray we’re still around to provide it.
We’ve got to sift our tradition in order to save it, for the good of the world. Winnow—and hold on tight. Reevaluate—and recommit.
In 2005, there was a FrontLine issue titled “Passing the Torch.” In 2010 there was an issue titled, “Passing the Baton.” It’s 2018 now, and for various understandable reasons the torch and baton are still in the hands of older generations. I know that the final issue of FrontLine will not need to be called “Passing the Buck,” because you love our movement too much to let that happen. There are things you can do—I’ve named quite a few—to preserve our institutions and pass them to my generation so we have to deal with the problems. I pray you succeed. I’m for you. Godspeed.
Six times in the NT the Spirit of the Lord led Paul to tell his readers to imitate him (2 Thess 3:7; 1 Cor 4:16; 11:1; Phil 3:17; 4:9; 2 Tim 1:13), and two times to praise his readers for doing so (1 Thess 1:6; 2 Tim 3:10; cf. 1 Thess 2:14). His emotional life, insofar as the NT reveals it, is a significant but overlooked portion of his divinely inspired example. Paul’s “religious affections,” revealed through narratives and epistles, are needful for Christian obedience today.
In order to properly understand Paul’s emotional life, readers must understand the Bible’s theological anthropology. This dissertation canvasses major Western views of the will, with special attention to intellectualism and voluntarism, landing on an Augustinian voluntarism—one refracted through the views of John Frame and, especially, Jonathan Edwards.
In order to properly understand Paul’s emotional life, readers must also clear away some especially persistent errors of “theological lexicography,” the freighting of Greek and Hebrew words with a theology that they do not and cannot bear. The ἀγάπη word group in particular is said to indicate “a rational choice to do what is best for someone else regardless of how one feels.” The ἐλπίς word group, likewise, is said to indicate a “confident expectation” and not a feeling. The Greek words for gratitude (εὐχαριστία) and joy (χαρά) often receive a similar treatment, one which strips emotion out of their meaning.
An epilogue offers applications for exegesis, preaching, and counseling.
I’m the music director at my church, my wife is one of our pianists. We and another pianist, a very dedicated and skillful lady, recently attended a Majesty Music Conference in order to gain instruction and, frankly, inspiration for a church music program (our own!) we felt was flagging. It’s my fault entirely, of course, that this was the case. But we all needed help. We were not disappointed.
I came away proud of my alma mater, because almost every person teaching sessions was a graduate of BJU. I have heard Warren Cook and his wife Jean perform and conduct music on countless occasions, but I’d never heard them speak or teach. They were nothing short of stupendous. I was in awe, learned 4.3 tons, and could not stop laughing. I’m so grateful for their gifts and training and experience—and their willingness to share it with a small group whose (very reasonable) registration fees must hardly have covered the workshop leaders’ expenses. Somehow I doubt they were in it for the money. The others who presented did very well, too. The Majesty staff served my church faithfully with the gifts the Lord has given them. Five weeks on, after our church’s first ever choir “performance,” I’m so grateful.
I got tips on leading congregational singing, using group vocal techniques for choirs and ensembles, and planning out various aspects of church music ministry. My wife and our other pianist got tips on modulation, sight-reading, and children’s ministry. The three of us spent all our free time together playing through new music and talking about how to revamp our music ministry. It was very stimulating and encouraging. I learned that three shots in three arms is worth six shots in one.
Now to my point in this post.
On the second and final day of the conference, in the very last session, we had a Q&A with the workshop leaders as panelists. They provided more wisdom and inspiration: they appeared to be a nearly inexhaustible well. Until I asked what I might call a stumper:
Who in this generation is writing to defend and promote the generally conservative worship tradition of Majesty, the Wilds, and similar institutions?
The panelists all looked at one another. After a bit, someone came up with the name of a practitioner, not a writer. Someone from the audience shouted out a name I did and do know: my friend Scott Aniol. That was it. Two names. One whose writing just hasn’t made it onto my radar and another who, if I may speak a little too frankly, writes better for leaders than for church people. Don’t get me wrong: I’m grateful for you, Scott. But I think you’d agree that we need more voices with different gifts for reaching different audiences.
I’m throwing down a gauntlet and writing an uncharacteristically personal plea: church musicians my age who have inherited the worship traditions I’ve inherited, I ask you, please write! I’m not asking you to write to tell me that everything in our tradition is good. (I’m hoping, however, that you won’t tell me it’s all bad!) I feel as if my crowd of Christians is losing its “right” to have its musical tradition, given that people my age have done almost nothing publicly to defend it, promote it, and apply it to our changing cultural realities.
I remember asking my seminary profs on a panel many years ago—custodians of the same overall conservative tradition—something like this: “If we expect Kazakh churches to use musical styles appropriate to their Kazakh cultural situation, and Botswanan churches to use musical styles appropriate to their Botswana cultural situation, where should Americans look in our culture for appropriate musical styles for worship?” I love my profs, and they’re all 14.3 times smarter than I, and I don’t know what they’d say today, but I was underwhelmed by the non-response I received. And these are people I’ve never stumped before or since.
As I’ve checked around with youngish pastoral-type men my age who have experienced the same formational influences I have, my sense is that many feel the same way I do: they are uncomfortable with heavily contemporary, performance-oriented, pop-music-styled music in church; they are comfortable, more or less, with the worship tradition they’ve inherited. We have a basic sense that “don’t be conformed to the world” ought to apply to worship music, and thisisbad (not to mention hokey). But they don’t buy all the reasons traditionally given for maintaining our conservative traditions. Rock-music-wilts-plants just isn’t persuasive anymore, if it ever was. Guilt-by-association doesn’t work, either, because that sword cuts both ways: the internet makes the weirdnesses and sins of classic hymn writers just as easy to discover as the doctrinal problems of Hillsong.
As a friend of mine wrote to me recently,
I’m decidedly conservative in my music styles, especially for worship, but aside from [the] “don’t-worship-like-the-world” argument, none of the others have really been convincing in the long term. I really wonder how much of my position is merely tradition and preference, and I have a certain sympathy for people who no longer hold to the same standards. If I’m not convinced with the standard arguments, how can I expect them to be?
But very few theologians in my circles who are my generation or younger, and very few musicians, are stepping into the gaping hole of contemporary argument. There’s a traditionalist United Methodist (?) musician on Patheos whose every post on music is greater than the total output (minus Scott Aniol’s blog) of my generation of BJU graduates. Or at least it seems that way. An undefended tradition is a tradition left to rot. It appears to be something we’re insecure about. And it becomes, I’ll say this again, a tradition we have little or no right to hold. Even when I’ve written a few posts on worship music using my own socio-linguistic angle—such as two posts onpop and two onrap—I’ve felt like I was a lone voice speaking on a topic others with the proper training ought to be speaking to; I felt like I had little authority to speak but had to risk it because of the silence of my more musically knowledgeable friends. Thankfully, my blog is so obscure that I didn’t stir up any hornets.
Even without the right to speak, I feel compelled by Rom 12:2 not to bring rock, pop, rap, country, and jazz styles into church. That’s sufficient for me for now: the argument from worldliness has always felt intuitive to me, starting at least in fifth grade in 1990, when I argued about this very issue in my Christian school with skeptical classmates. But I can see how easy it will be for my own church teens and my own kids to join the skepticism, now that contemporary musical styles are part of the assumed background of our American cultural life—as objectionable as peanut butter.
Theologians do need to form a significant portion of any discussions like those I propose; they will bring careful thinking about culture and careful exegesis of NT passages on church music. But musicians are the only ones who have the specific domain knowledge necessary to make credible arguments for pastors and people in the pew.
I worked hard over many years to popularize—to make accessible to laypeople—the most important new arguments against KJV-Onlyism. I found rhetorical strategies and concepts like “false friends” with which to package up those ideas to help them go farther. I went to considerable effort to write it all up and get it published and promoted. I hope I was able to do all this while maintaining a gentle graciousness toward my brothers who are KJV-Only (initial reactions to the book increase my hope). Plus, my book is short, and it contains jokes my wife found funny. T. David Gordon has done something similar—and his book is short, too—for the church music of upper-middle-class Presbyterians (and indeed he has much to teach my very similar worship tradition); who will do this for the church music of middle-class, conservative Baptistic “us”?
If no one stands in the gap, we will be overrun; and it may be what we deserve. Ironically, it may be the Anglicans and the Protestant mainline who keep alive the beautiful hymns and styles of the Western church music tradition. My impression is that (sweeping generalization alert) some of the KJV-Only folks out to my right are letting revivalistic music with a Southern twang and a nationalist tinge overtake what was once more robust Western church music. I think that’s unfortunate, but the best I can say is 1) that that music feels low-brow (and that nationalism doesn’t belong in church). And 2) it seems to me to be violating the principle I found in Andy Crouch’s work, namely that we are called by the Creation Mandate to cultivate the tradition we’ve inherited. I still see rock and pop and rap as lowest-common-denominator styles, illegitimate children of the Western tradition, “technologically massaged tool[s] for the delivery of pleasing or cathartic emotions” (Crouch, Culture Making, 60).
But people who know better than I do need to duke this one out. So, you music people, please write. I’d even welcome hearing from people nurtured in my tradition who, I sense, don’t quite share my feelings about what worship music ought to sound like. This debate needs to come out of private conversation and into the harsh light and cut-and-thrust of the (Christian) public square: we need books and articles and lectures and whole blogs and Facebook live chats and explainer videos from our educated and gifted musicians. My “side,” which I’m not even sure how to describe, needs to be gracious and assiduous, or (one more time for the road) we deserve to lose.
I fear it’s too late; I fear that we are losing and have lost important institutions that once conserved the Western church music tradition in its specifically English form. But we can’t waste time worrying about what is lost. The time to write is now. A one, and a two, and a NOW.
I have been asked to address the Annual Fellowship of the Foundations Baptist Fellowship International in June, 2018, in Troy, Michigan, on this topic: “The Legitimate Concerns of the Next Generation (An Objective Analysis).”
Now, every Christian worships within some tradition or other, even if some don’t like to admit it because it threatens their claim to be the only true tradition! The tradition I was handed in God’s providence has often been one such tradition, but I don’t think it has to be: independent Baptist fundamentalism. To be clear, because that tradition has split over the KJV, I’m in the 25% (?) of that tradition that values education* and is decidedly not KJV-Only.
No one wants to take the title “fundamentalist” in public (good thing this blog is so obscure), and I’m not unaware that the title is both fraught and fought over—and despised by almost everybody. I’m all too aware that the label lumps me in with sectarians and other people I’m not proud of, and puts an artificial gap between me and other believers whose books and blogs I actually read. Please find me a label that avoids all these faults and still lets me love the people who nurtured me and carry on what’s valuable in our tradition, and I’ll happily take it, and probably already do. (There is, yes, the added problem that the label is associated with Muslim terrorism—and that’s why I helped [a little] move my “denomination” toward a new moniker, the Foundations Baptist Fellowship.)
I’m running the informal survey below because I want to represent the “The Legitimate Concerns of the Next Generation.” I’ve been asked to do so—which speaks well of the previous generation(s). So this survey is meant for people who have been shaped by American Protestant Christian fundamentalism and still find themselves either within or not too far from that tradition. But I make no attempt to be scientific; I won’t be presenting stats (the last effort to do this ten-plus years ago was, in my judgment, a failure when it tried to do that but was still valuable for other reasons). I’m just trying to listen. I am asking that no one submit an anonymous survey—for your sake: I find it is not healthy. But I promise I will not use your name in any article or presentation without your permission. Please feel free to be honest, but I encourage you to aim for persuasion, not venting. Write with an audience of older (non-KJV-Only) FBFI members in mind. Write in a gracious and godly way calculated to influence them and appeal to them, because you may.
*To say we value education more than our KJV-Only brothers is not an insult; it is an empirical observation of the credentials of their Bible college faculty vs. ours, and I’ve done the study to back it up. Contact me privately if you’re interested in seeing the stats.
This was utterly, absolutely fascinating. I laughed out loud with joy to hear these residents of Mumbai defend their English and criticize ours (see especially starting around 1:10). Why did I find this so funny/interesting?
Because it overturns American expectations in an extremely healthy way, linguistically speaking. The truth is, even though Americans now know we’re not supposed to say it out loud, we tend to regard Indian English (and Kenyan English and Singaporean English, if we ever encounter them) as “sounding funny.” Whereas Brits and Aussies (and Canadians and Scots and the Welsh and Irish) use English accents that sound familiar through our exposure to British TV, and whereas they use accents to which we feel they have a right; Indians are (we tend to suppose) all speaking English “wrong” because (we tend to suppose) they speak it as a second language. Indeed, the way the real-life young Indians in this video talk is just a beat off from what we would say. (I still found it all perfectly intelligible, but I noticed that the captioner silently “corrected” it to fit American norms.)
One young woman pronounces basically as a four-syllable word rather than a three-syllable word (1:55 or so).
Another man, when asked whether he knew that Americans make fun of his accent, said, “After I went to United State I thought they spoke wrong English, so I make fun of their English, so it doesn’t make any difference to me.” (Yes! Loved that guy! See at 1:59.)
Another young man, after opining that American English speakers “look like they are spitting,” said, “Sorry, not offensive.” He elided “to be” (or “I don’t wish to be”) in a way I don’t think American English speakers would, and it sounded purposeful and not mistaken. (See 2:12ish.)
“I think our accent is better,” said that same young man. “I think they need to learn English from us,” said the next young man interviewed. (See 2:18ff.) That’s when I laughed out loud with pleasure. Because these young people were so entertainingly articulating what I’ve been saying now for so long, but what I had to learn the hard way—by putting my foot in my mouth in front of a Kenyan and later a Singaporean: Why is what we say “right” and what they say “wrong” if, as several of them point out, they can understand each other just fine? Do we own English just because we’ve had it longer? Indeed, basically is spelled like a four-syllable word—why isn’t it pronounced that way in the U.S.? If India were the ruling power of the world, if Bollywood dominated global entertainment, if Indian English authors were the most translated of all writers, Americans would see things differently. I predict you’d see Indian usages cropping up inside our borders: Indian catchphrases, Indian pronunciations. We just can’t imagine our linguistic world in any other way than it is now, but we should. It’s a healthy exercise.
Now, the people interviewed in this video are not all linguistic saints. The one man in the turban said he finds French-accented and Russian-accented English funny. But then I’m not sure anyone learns either of those Englishes as his or her first language, and as this video makes clear, many Indian youth are now taught Indian-inflected English before learning their “proper” native tongues.
I have not read deeply in sociolinguistics. I’m sure I’m missing opportunities to use the jargon of that field to explain what I’m witnessing. I just know I find it all delightful. Language is so fun; people around the world all take it so personally, as well they should. Give it some time, and we’ll see what impact that powerful subcontinent over there with its billion-plus inhabitants, 12.6% of which speak English, will do to our shared tongue. I can’t wait to find out. But if you think your English is “right” and theirs is “wrong,” watch this video. And take that.
I’m becoming an Alastair Roberts fanboy. I can’t wait for his Crossway book on a theology of gender—except that the guy can write 4,000 intellectually rich and biblically sound words a minute, and I actually want to get through the book so I’m hoping the editors can help him reign in the page count just a bit. The guy is ca-ra-zy prolific, like no one I’ve ever seen, including Alan Jacobs. And his British accent increases his apparent intelligence by about 10%, much as going on TV adds ten pounds.
I’m sure Roberts is fallen and finite, but I can’t help but feel he’s been raised up for such a time as this—our big, bad gender this that’s going on right now.
The pride many Christians have in rejecting the legalism of fundamentalism’s excessive boundaries often does not seem to be manifested in greater holiness of life, a more intense hunger for righteousness, wiser behaviour, and deeper virtue, but in more thoroughly rationalized dabbling in the dirtiness of the world. Even many Christians who are earnestly pursuing holiness can far more easily be overcome by sin in a society where the boundaries that once protected us from temptations or from acting upon them are so lowered.
Reading Christians of past ages, one is often struck by their strong sense of a need for renunciation of anything that would hinder or trip them up in their pursuit of holiness. Their strong rules around entertainment or interaction between the sexes seem so excessive to us today—surely purity is not avoidance! Yet it is hard not to wonder whether this is simply because we have such a high tolerance for sin, provided that it is perceived to occur among consensual adults and to be a tolerable cost incurred by our increased enjoyment of autonomy. Likewise, we seem to have little sense of our weakness and corruption: we all have a fifth column within our hearts.
If my own fundamentalist tradition has erred, it’s in being uncertain of or forgetful of the T in TULIP, in talking as if the fifth columnists aren’t inside the walls, as if all serious threats are external.
Let me offer, though, two Bible verses that fit Roberts’ read and don’t fit the way the cool kids talk:
Make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue. (2 Pet 1:5 ESV)
In other words, the life of Christian virtue requires effort.
And now, speaking of Graham and Pence,
Do not enter the path of the wicked,
and do not walk in the way of the evil. (Proverbs 4:14 ESV)
In other words, there are plenty of times when you literally, physically just don’t go there, wherever there is, because of that fifth column inside you. You don’t make provision for the flesh, to fulfill its lusts. You consider yourself, lest you also be tempted, even while you’re in the midst of trying to restore a sinning brother.
Now one more Bible passage—because we’ve got to hold these truths together with Col 2:
“Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch” (referring to things that all perish as they are used)—according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh. (Colossians 2:21–23 ESV)
It is the strength of the fundamentalist tradition to have a titanium backbone about stuff we won’t do, no matter the looks we get (and I’ve gotten looks). It is the weakness of that tradition to allow our traditional abstinences to become petty, to harden into arrogant shells that keep us from seeing the way times have changed, or the places other Christians are in their spiritual maturity, or the fact that our hearts don’t always keep up with our rules. But if, as I’m coming more and more to believe, every legitimate Christian tradition/group exists to give its gifts to Christ’s body, let’s magnify our office (humbly): you who have been influenced as I have by Protestant Christian fundamentalism, continue to quietly be willing to aim hard at holiness. Don’t let the worst and most painful kind of mockery, the kind that comes from other Christians, dissuade you from that calling to be always in pursuit of purity. Purity is more than avoidance, but not less.