RICK LANGER
One of the challenges of modern Christianity is sorting out the incredible diversity of denominations, sects, cults, and heresies. Particularly in the Protestant world, there is no single authoritative body which determines what teaching is orthodox and what teaching is heterodox. To say that our only rule of faith and practice is the Scripture is to ignore the problem rather than to solve it. What is needed is an authoritative interpretation and application of Scripture to the puzzling array of modern religious beliefs. Simply claiming that Scripture is authoritative is not enough.
Though I do not hope to solve this problem completely, I would like to suggest a way of viewing the history of the church and the development of doctrine that may help solve the problem of discerning truth and error in Christian life and practice.
What are the distinguishing marks of authentic Christianity? I will suggest three:
Apostolic foundation: The first mark of the authentic church is that it is built upon the right foundation. And indeed, from the perspective of the New Testament writers, there is only one true foundation: the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Jesus Christ as cornerstone (Eph 2:20). This is the bedrock of the Christian faith: the work of Christ as proclaimed by the apostles. We are all called to be builders (1 Cor 3:10-15), but all of our building must be done on a single foundation, for “no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.” (1 Cor 3:11).
Core confessions: Another distinguishing mark of the authentic church is the beliefs which it confesses. As Paul suggests, it is only by the Spirit of God that one confesses “Jesus is Lord.” Jude identifies false teachers as those “denying our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ.” Those who will be saved are those who “confess that Jesus is Lord and believe in their heart that God raised him from the dead.” (Rom 10:9) These statements build around a single touchstone belief which distinguishes all authentic Christianity: a belief in the deity of Christ.
It is not enough merely to believe in Jesus; it is also important to clarify what one believes about Jesus.
There are also further refinements of this belief offered in the pages of the New Testament. It is not enough merely to believe in Jesus; it is also important to clarify what one believes about Jesus. Authentic faith confesses Jesus to have come in the flesh, to have died, and to have been resurrected (1 John 4:2, 1Cor 15:3-5). The resurrection of Christ is usually a bridge to belief in Christ’s return (1Cor 15:51-52) and final work of judgment. Such core beliefs worked their way into formal credal confessions of the early church—first as parts of baptismal statements memorized by catechumens, and later they were expressed in more technical language in creeds associated with the great councils.
Canon of Scripture: It is also clear that authentic faith was associated with a belief in the inspiration and authority of Scripture. During the life of Christ and during the initial years of apostolic proclamation, the Scriptures were the Hebrew Old Testament. Apostolic preaching understood the life and ministry of Christ as a culmination and fulfillment of a work of God begun long ago in the life of the nation of Israel. The prophetic utterances which came to Israel were the very words of God—Jesus did not come to abolish this past work of God but to complete and fulfill it (Matt 5:17). In the course of events, the apostolic proclamations were themselves written down both in systematic fashion and in response to particular needs and occasions in the life of the fledgling church. As the apostles began to die, these writings became increasingly important—they were the only direct link we had to the apostolic foundation. And so the New Testament was compiled and joined with the Old in what quickly became the authoritative written documents of the Christian faith.
Though other elements might be suggested, such as the sacramental practices of baptism and the Lord’s Supper, these were generally regarded as expressions of the faith rather than definitions of the faith. Authentic believers did these practices, but the faith itself was defined by its beliefs. To these worship practices could also be added a host of moral and personal behaviors which were also distinctive of Christians, but nonetheless not actually part of the foundation of the faith itself.
The Family Tree
With these three elements of authentic Christianity in mind, let us imagine the religious world as a sort of forest of beliefs in which the Christian tree has been planted. As you walk through the forest you notice that there are many trees, not just one. Some trees look similar to one another, and others look distinctively different. Some trees are nearby, and others are distant. Some branches are distant from each other but surprisingly are attached to the same trunk. On the other hand, you also notice that some branches are very close to each other but are actually attached to different trees. Some trees are withering and dying, others seem to have just sprung up.
How do we make sense of this forest of belief? Allow me to suggest three “horticultural” observations about Christian orthodoxy:
Orthodoxy is not determined by the proximity of the branches but rather by the trunk to which they are attached. Let me consider a specific example. I am often asked about the Church of Latter Day Saints by people who are casual observers of Christianity. People are struck by the fact that Mormons are often good people who pray and look just like other evangelical Christians. The conclusion often drawn is that, deep down, there is really no difference. But in reality, all that people have done is looked at the branches and found them to be nearby one another. Orthodoxy, however, is not a matter of the branches but of the trunk. If you want to know if the Church of Latter Day Saints is orthodox, you need to trace the branch back down the trunk and see if it is attached to the “faith once for all delivered to the saints.”
If we consider the three marks of the “trunk” of authentic Christianity, it quickly becomes clear where the Church of Latter Day Saints attaches. Though they may say that Jesus is God, they may profess belief in the apostles, and they may read the Bible, there is an obvious problem. They believe that Jesus is a certain sort of god—the sort of god that we also will one day become. Indeed, a common Mormon confession is that “as man is, god once was. As god is, man can become.” This is an understanding of god that has its roots in Joseph Smith, not historical Christian monotheism. They believe in apostles, but it does not appear that the foundation of the prophets and apostles was “laid once for all.” Rather, the apostolic work of Joseph Smith, most importantly, and the ongoing work of the 12 apostles who form the highest leadership of the church are the essential foundation on which the Latter Day Saints build their church. Similarly, they may believe in the Bible, but only so far as it has been accurately transmitted and translated as determined by the writings and revelations of Joseph Smith. The trunk to which the branch of the Latter Day Saints attach is the trunk of Joseph Smith, not the trunk of apostolic preaching, credal confessions and the canon of Scripture.
The tree was never killed, though many branches have died.
I have noticed that one of the most common strategies for “marketing” a heterodox set of beliefs is to claim that they are really the authentic and original beliefs. In the course of history, these beliefs were lost. But now, through the ministry of a leader, a prophet, or a charismatic teacher, they have been restored.
The most obvious and disconcerting problem about this approach is the unnerving sense of spiritual pride. There is something problematic about the assertion that this particular group alone, of all of Christendom, has the truth; that 2000 years of Christians have misunderstood Christ entirely, but now in these last days, a new group has found the truth once more. These are the sorts of claims of which I am generally suspicious—no matter if they are made in a religious, historical, or philosophical context. However, in the context of the current discussion, there is a more fundamental problem. Christ himself promised that he would build his church and the gates of hell would not prevail against it (Matt 16:18). Was this promise kept or was it not? Did the gates of hell prevail for 2000 years? Will the gates of hell prevail again? What happened to the foundation laid and the faith given once for all? It appears that the foundation has to be re-laid and the faith has to be given once more.
There is something quite different in these statements than what is found, for example, in the teachings of the Reformers. Though extremely critical of the existing Roman Catholic Church, Luther set out to reform the church, not restart it. The assumption that drove him was that the tree of the church needed to be pruned. Certain branches were dead and keeping other branches from growing. But there was no question that he was drawing on the ongoing life of the authentic church to fulfill this task. He did not discover or write new revelation; he translated already given revelation into a language that the people could understand. The reformation understanding of the church was semper reformanda, the church reformed and always reforming. It is an almost perfect description of the life of a tree—old leaves falling off but new leaves forming; old branches dying even as new branches are growing on another part of the tree. The branches and leaves come and go, but the life of the tree never dies.
Renewal is a work of the branches. Finally, renewal of the church always begins on a branch. Though we love to talk about going back to the “trunk” of the New Testament church, this is unrealistic. We do not receive our faith in a cultural and historical vacuum. The faith once for all delivered to the saints is also the faith generation by generation delivered by the saints. We receive our faith as a gift—transmitted to us by those who have gone before. We may want to distance ourselves from unsavory leaves which are further down our branch. I often feel this way when I read about the Crusades, the Inquisition, or the Anabaptist persecutions. There are parts of my family tree that I would rather not acknowledge. But honestly, there are parts of me and parts of my church that I am sure future generations will not want to acknowledge either. Attaching ourselves to a branch with a long though problematic history is somewhat humbling. I would rather attach myself to the pristine trunk with Paul, Peter and John as my near neighbors. But humility is appropriate. The reason the church is always being renewed and reformed is that we are always getting one thing or another wrong. Our weakness reveals God’s strength. The perseverance of the church through the millennia is a testimony to the providential grace of God, not to the brilliant leadership of those who have received the faith and passed it on.
The perseverance of the church through the millennia is a testimony to the providential grace of God, not to the brilliant leadership of those who have received the faith and passed it on.
One final note about the forest of religious belief. There are many, many trees in this forest that are far beyond the scope of this brief article. However, there are some near neighbors to the tree of orthodoxy—the shrubs, as it were, that grow in its shadow. These are worth noting because they have a way of returning time and time again, in slightly different form, but clearly growing from the same seed. Three of the shrubs merit specific mention:
The shrub of Gnosticism: This most ancient of heresies denies first the humanity of Christ. This is a specific consequence of a more general error—a denial of the goodness of material creation in any form. Gnosticism associates material creations with the works of fallen gods and lesser gods—and indeed it often characterizes the God of the Old Testament as just such a lesser god. Since the material world is bad and the spiritual world is good, Christ can be God (a spirit) but he cannot be human. Interestingly, the consequences of this theological heresy quickly manifest themselves in either of two moral failures: ascetic legalism or unbridled moral license. The ascetic branch of Gnosticism assumes that since the material creation is bad it should be shunned as much as possible. The logic is clear enough. The other branch of Gnosticism follows a slightly more complicated line of thought. Since the body is bad, it doesn’t really matter what you do with it. It cannot be made any better, but it really cannot be made any worse either. Therefore, one is actually free to indulge in any sort of physical activity—sexual promiscuity included. What counts is the spirit, not the body. The weeds of Gnosticism grow constantly in the church—sometimes in mild forms which involve disregard of ordinary human activities such as work and marriage because they are not spiritual, to more complete forms of Gnosticism which loom behind aspects of the New Age movement and modern interest in explicitly Gnostic writings.
Arianism: This involves the denial of the deity of Christ, and in this sense is a sort of logical counterpoint to Gnosticism which denies the humanity of Christ. Arianism is characteristic of both of the Church of Latter Day Saints and the Jehovah’s Witnesses. It is commonly associated with a doctrine of salvation that emphasizes human works rather than the work of Christ. The logic of this is relatively transparent—we tend to worship a Savior who is only as large as our sin. If our sin is comparatively small, we tend to think we can solve it ourselves or that it can be solved by another person, albeit an exceptional person. On the other hand, if human sin is fundamental, deep and pervasive, we are hopelessly lost and our salvation requires divine rather than human intervention.
…salvation is accomplished by a return to the Jewish law—though generally with an emphasis on a pre-flood diet that abstained from eating meat.
Ebionites: Though this heresy is far less widely known than Gnosticism and Arianism, it is important in its own way. It generally shares with Arianism the denial of the deity of Christ, and not surprisingly it views salvation as a human work. In this particular case, salvation is accomplished by a return to the Jewish law—though generally with an emphasis on a pre-flood diet that abstained from eating meat. The connection with Adventism is obvious, but I actually identify the Ebionite “shrub” for a different reason. It was also characteristic of the Ebionites that they rejected large portions of the New Testament (particularly everything written by Paul) and had a special reverence for the book of Matthew. Notice that their denial of a core doctrinal belief such as the deity of Christ is accompanied by a rejection of some of the apostolic foundation of the church and the canon as well. All three elements of the authentic Christian trunk are called into question.
In summary, knowledge of church history is an invaluable aid in discerning contemporary theological errors. A good rule of thumb is to check a belief by seeing if it attaches to the apostolic foundation, the credal confessions, and the canon of Scripture. If all or parts of this connection are absent, you are looking at a set of beliefs that have departed from historical orthodoxy. If the only connection to the authentic trunk is mediated through some other prophet, teacher, or written revelation, you immediately know that the real point of attachment is to that other prophet, teacher or revelation. They have chosen to build on a new foundation rather than the one that was laid once for all. †
—Republished from Proclamation! Magazine, May/June 2007
Rick Langer is an associate professor in the Biblical Studies and Theology Department at Biola University. Prior to coming to Biola, he served for over twenty years as a pastor at Trinity Evangelical Free Church in Redlands, California. Rick holds an undergraduate degree in chemistry from Colorado State University, an MDiv from Talbot Seminary, and an MA and a PhD in Philosophy from UC Riverside. He and his wife Shari live in Redlands; they have two children: Crystal, 20, and Mark, 18.
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