People are comfortable with categories. That's just how they are. Categories help to take the guess-work out of life. If you're a Democrat, you are pro-choice, pro-taxes, pro-LGBT, and pro-welfare state. If you're a Republican, on the other hand, you are pro-life, support tax cuts, have Judaeo-Christian values, and want people to go out and get a job. Sound familiar? We complain about the two-party system, but when someone actually challenges it by failing to conform to one of these sets of ideals, we refuse to consider him/her a possibility. Beyond that we love our musical, literary, and cinematic genres. We love our simple, clear-cut, black-and-white categories.
The same, I have found, is often true of our theology. You're a Baptist or you're a Presbyterian. You're a Methodist or you're a Catholic. You can fill in the blanks with any "ism," "ist," or "an" you like. It's not simply the denominational affiliations that are cherished though, nor is it those affiliations that present the issue. It's conformity to the theological system (written or unwritten) within those denominations that is important. If I'm a Presbyterian and you're a Baptist, that's okay. We can agree to disagree. But if you call yourself a Presbyterian and happen to hold a belief that would more commonly be associated with those Baptists or those Orthodox or those slightly-less-Reformed Presbyterians, well, then you're probably a heretic. You're an enigma. You don't really fit it with anyone. You might as well be non-denominational, but even then you probably won't fit in with their expected norms.
I, for one, am comfortable being enigmatic. I was raised with the realization that our beliefs were not widely held, even within Evangelical Christendom. The FORC, the denomination in which I was raised and to which I returned as an adult, was created because there are enigmatic people out there who don't quite fit in. We call ourselves Reformed Presbyterians, and that we are, but we find ourselves having many little differences with the average conservative Presbyterians.
I find that I can be confusing to many people, especially those with whom I converse in theological forums online. So many times a controversial issue is brought up and people are sort of teaming up on either side of the issue. People like to know who is going to believe what. So and so is a Presbyterian, so that means that he will believe x. You can sense the confusion and consternation when he actually believes y, and ends up on the opposite side of the aisle in that particular debate.
For many Reformed Christians this sort of enigmatic persona is dangerous. They relish predictability and the type of solidarity that only comes from mutual submission to the written, immutable standards of the Reformation. I, however, think that being enigmatic captures the spirit of the Reformation. Sure, the Reformers eventually put down their firmly-held beliefs into writing, but the Reformation was not really marked by uniformity. If anything, the great Reformed Confessions bear witness to the diversity of the Reformation. The fact that the Confessions were necessary indicates that the Reformation was comprised of many traditions, ethnicities, and perspective. So often we are tempted to offer the "Reformed" view of any given subject, but we must be careful not to oversimplify just what the means. For example, Calvin, Luther, and Zwingli all had different views of the nature of the Lord's Table. Can we say that one of those views is the Reformed view in contrast to the other two?
To be Reformed, then, isn't necessarily to hold a specific view on every given subject. The Reformed Confessions and Catechisms are relatively short when compared to their Roman Catholic counterparts. Many of them are no more than summaries of the basics of the faith. What really defined the Reformers and their movement was not simply a set of beliefs, but the standard upon which those beliefs were based. They revived a love for and devotion to the Scriptures, refusing to be restrained by the traditions of men. A man was bound by God's Word and not man's. As Luther said so famously at the Diet of Worms, "Unless I am convinced by Scripture and plain reason - I do not accept the authority of the popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other - my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and I will not recant anything for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe. God help me. Amen." You might say that Luther was an enigma. Lutherans, Presbyterians, and even Baptists all respect him as one of the fathers of the Reformation, yet few would find themselves in agreement with him on everything (or even most) of what he believed. We love and respect him because he grounded his beliefs upon the Scriptures and he was willing to die rather than go against his conscience.
As time wore on and the battle lines were drawn more clearly between the Reformed and Catholic camps, boundaries were established for what it meant to be Reformed. It is good and right that that happened. What we must never do, however, is seek absolute conformity. It is one thing to require someone to hold to a Confession generally in order to maintain fellowship. It is another thing entirely to require him to hold to that Confession implicitly and absolutely. Theology is not so much a destination as it is a journey. Cliche, I know, but true. I was raised and have remained a Reformed Presbyterian, but many of my views have changed, whether entirely or incrementally. As I have learned and grown, my perspective has been widened and my views have adjusted accordingly. Creeds, Confessions, and Catechisms keep me within orthodoxy, but Scripture alone dictates my views.
It can be a little bit lonely being enigmatic. It can also be sort of fun. Ultimately it's part of who I am, theologically, politically, musically, etc. It's a trait that I share with many of my Reformed brethren, and I think, with our theological forefathers. I long for the day when we can celebrate the diversity within the unity that they handed down to us.
The same, I have found, is often true of our theology. You're a Baptist or you're a Presbyterian. You're a Methodist or you're a Catholic. You can fill in the blanks with any "ism," "ist," or "an" you like. It's not simply the denominational affiliations that are cherished though, nor is it those affiliations that present the issue. It's conformity to the theological system (written or unwritten) within those denominations that is important. If I'm a Presbyterian and you're a Baptist, that's okay. We can agree to disagree. But if you call yourself a Presbyterian and happen to hold a belief that would more commonly be associated with those Baptists or those Orthodox or those slightly-less-Reformed Presbyterians, well, then you're probably a heretic. You're an enigma. You don't really fit it with anyone. You might as well be non-denominational, but even then you probably won't fit in with their expected norms.
I, for one, am comfortable being enigmatic. I was raised with the realization that our beliefs were not widely held, even within Evangelical Christendom. The FORC, the denomination in which I was raised and to which I returned as an adult, was created because there are enigmatic people out there who don't quite fit in. We call ourselves Reformed Presbyterians, and that we are, but we find ourselves having many little differences with the average conservative Presbyterians.
I find that I can be confusing to many people, especially those with whom I converse in theological forums online. So many times a controversial issue is brought up and people are sort of teaming up on either side of the issue. People like to know who is going to believe what. So and so is a Presbyterian, so that means that he will believe x. You can sense the confusion and consternation when he actually believes y, and ends up on the opposite side of the aisle in that particular debate.
For many Reformed Christians this sort of enigmatic persona is dangerous. They relish predictability and the type of solidarity that only comes from mutual submission to the written, immutable standards of the Reformation. I, however, think that being enigmatic captures the spirit of the Reformation. Sure, the Reformers eventually put down their firmly-held beliefs into writing, but the Reformation was not really marked by uniformity. If anything, the great Reformed Confessions bear witness to the diversity of the Reformation. The fact that the Confessions were necessary indicates that the Reformation was comprised of many traditions, ethnicities, and perspective. So often we are tempted to offer the "Reformed" view of any given subject, but we must be careful not to oversimplify just what the means. For example, Calvin, Luther, and Zwingli all had different views of the nature of the Lord's Table. Can we say that one of those views is the Reformed view in contrast to the other two?
To be Reformed, then, isn't necessarily to hold a specific view on every given subject. The Reformed Confessions and Catechisms are relatively short when compared to their Roman Catholic counterparts. Many of them are no more than summaries of the basics of the faith. What really defined the Reformers and their movement was not simply a set of beliefs, but the standard upon which those beliefs were based. They revived a love for and devotion to the Scriptures, refusing to be restrained by the traditions of men. A man was bound by God's Word and not man's. As Luther said so famously at the Diet of Worms, "Unless I am convinced by Scripture and plain reason - I do not accept the authority of the popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other - my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and I will not recant anything for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe. God help me. Amen." You might say that Luther was an enigma. Lutherans, Presbyterians, and even Baptists all respect him as one of the fathers of the Reformation, yet few would find themselves in agreement with him on everything (or even most) of what he believed. We love and respect him because he grounded his beliefs upon the Scriptures and he was willing to die rather than go against his conscience.
As time wore on and the battle lines were drawn more clearly between the Reformed and Catholic camps, boundaries were established for what it meant to be Reformed. It is good and right that that happened. What we must never do, however, is seek absolute conformity. It is one thing to require someone to hold to a Confession generally in order to maintain fellowship. It is another thing entirely to require him to hold to that Confession implicitly and absolutely. Theology is not so much a destination as it is a journey. Cliche, I know, but true. I was raised and have remained a Reformed Presbyterian, but many of my views have changed, whether entirely or incrementally. As I have learned and grown, my perspective has been widened and my views have adjusted accordingly. Creeds, Confessions, and Catechisms keep me within orthodoxy, but Scripture alone dictates my views.
It can be a little bit lonely being enigmatic. It can also be sort of fun. Ultimately it's part of who I am, theologically, politically, musically, etc. It's a trait that I share with many of my Reformed brethren, and I think, with our theological forefathers. I long for the day when we can celebrate the diversity within the unity that they handed down to us.
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