My Calvinistic and Reformed friends. If we are still on speaking terms, I need to say something to you.
I am not like you. That’s not an attitude of condescension, it’s just a fact that I need to bring to the front of our relationship. You are writing me letters and notes about N.T. Wright, my views on inerrancy, my coziness with Catholicism. Your concern is appreciated, but now it’s time to stop it. We need to accept that we are different, and we are not on the same page in this journey.
I’m not like most of you because my dad was divorced, and the legalism in my church destroyed his willingness to fellowship and worship with other Christians. In our church, divorced people were castigated weekly as the worst of sinners. Dad stayed home in shame. He was a man of prayer and the Bible, but he only heard me preach five times in his life because the church we attended had both his ex-wife and my mother as members. I’ll never forget what it felt like when it dawned on me that my father wasn’t enjoying the forgiving welcome of Jesus, but was living in the condemnation of legalism. He loved God, but only at the end of his life did he hear the preaching of the cross that assured him his sins were forgiven- all of them.
This changed me in ways I can’t explain, but I can put it this way. When Jesus said of Lazurus, “Loose him and let him go,” I think he was talking about my dad. Other Christians didn’t hear that word, but I did, and it makes me who I am.
I’m not like you because I believe much of contemporary Christianity has nothing to do with the public ministry of Jesus or the reality of his Kingdom. I don’t see five finely honed points of reformed theology in Jesus’ acceptance of sinners in the Gospels. I don’t see the divisive rejection of people in Jesus’ ministry, but I see it on every corner in evangelicalism. Jesus ministry is the Kingdom of God made actual in the here and now. I see a new Israel being created around Jesus himself. I see the covenant love of God for his people extended to the last, lost, least, little and dead. Jesus’ denunciation of the religious establishment doesn’t seem to register with the religious crowd today who are every bit as outraged as the Prodigal’s older brother when it comes to joining the party being thrown for the son who’d been received home again.
I’m not like you because I learned the value of silence from that darned Catholic, Thomas Merton. I don’t think I can explain this, but I believe you can learn more about God in an hour silence than in a year of reading or listening to preaching. I learned that monasteries aren’t monuments to Mary, but places where another dimension of life is protected and nurtured. I learned in the silence and solitude of monasticism that God is more than a concept, a proposition or a list of statements. He is a reality that breaths life and being into every moment, every cell, every bit of matter than can not exist without him. In the silence, I learned that the voice of God is not the voice of lecturing professors or shouting preachers, but the very voice of being itself. I learned that only my monastic friends seem to understand the great power and universality of this, and because I learned this, I want to be far away from all the things we do to convince ourselves we’ve made God real. It’s not necessary. The God of the Word is found by faith in silence.
I’m different from many of you because God used that monk to show me a life lived before God. Merton wasn’t a theologian, but a writer, poet and activist. He went to the woods. He loved and hated the visible church, but he came back to it every day because from it he learned who he was and in it he found Christ. His lifetime of argument with the church and his superiors has shown me my own heart and attitudes a thousand times, and reminded me that for all its faults, the church is my family, my DNA and my best place in the world. Yet, Merton also taught me that the way of God is on the other side of the mountain, where we go to find ourselves in God and God alone, revealed in Jesus Christ.
I’m not like you because I have chosen to be part of an intentional, full-time, residential, mission-oriented Christian community. I am not bragging when I say this, because God brought me here to save my life as surely as he brought Merton to the monastery to save his. And like Merton, I have made some of my worst mistakes and arrogant errors here, and found the forgiveness of Christ here as well.
I have chosen to bring my life, my family and my ministry to the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, to a place where I live in a prefab house, receive a salary that I can’t explain to my father-in-law, and nothing- absolutely nothing- is like any mega-church or typical Christian school. We worship every day. We live together and work together. And we are not all Baptists. Or Calvinists. Or conservatives. We are here to evangelize and teach students who come from every nation and every situation, but who want an education and/or a place to start over. We are a Christian school for non-Christians. We give opportunities to internationals, kids in trouble, expelled students, older students, kids who have been failed by the public schools and well-intentioned home schooling parents. For 106 years, God has sustained us, and I am now a vital part of the vision that birthed and nurtured this unique place.
I don’t know why there aren’t hundreds of schools like ours, but I suspect the poverty aspect of our life doesn’t work for most Americans. Therefore, the people who come to work here are special people. They are Christians who are called to live and work out their faith in situations only Jesus would create. It’s amazing, exciting, difficult and demanding. It’s been a potter’s house for me, and God has used it to work wonders in my life. When I came here, I knew that the experience would shape and change me, and that has been true.
Our school was founded by a Calvinist, and his confidence in God’s sovereignty is part of who we are, but our school is made up of 150 staff and 300 plus students of every background, denomination and commitment….and I cannot afford to define Jesus narrowly. For the sake of my brothers and sisters, I must find him everywhere.
You see, I have to love my brothers and sisters with different theology because we labor side by side in the trenches of ministry together. I can’t spend my lunch hour or my chapel messages debating the finer points of Calvinism. I can’t separate from everyone over anything or everything. We are in battle on this hill, and like fellow soldiers taking ground under fire, we must look out for one another, sacrifice for one another and bind up the wounds we all endure. If you want to know why this theologically minded writer gets so disgusted with theology, then come walk alongside of me for a while. Listen to the stories of broken and dysfunctional homes. See the poverty of these mountains. Come and experience the worst poverty of all: the poverty of the Gospel that goes that is everywhere in the mountains. Go into the modest homes and Christ-adorned lives of my fellow servants; watch, listen and you will see that the ministry of Jesus to our students and neighbors is not the propagation of Calvinism, but a daily living out of the love and mission of Jesus.
I am not like you because I have seen the theological battle for the Southern Baptist Convention up close, and I realize that both sides- all those involved- are capable of being right and wrong. I entered The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in 1979, the height of the controversy. I was on campus when the conservatives forced a Bible Conference onto the campus, led by evangelist James Robison, to take a stand for inerrancy. I watched the angry reaction of the professors, many of whom were members of my congregation.
Years later, I watched conservatives take over my seminary, and while I agreed with much of their theology, their methods- especially in the treatment of people- left much to be desired. Sometimes, it was unavoidable. Other times, it was simply cruel and stupid. The moderates were driven from the school, and conservatives occupied the chairs of theology. The school’s theological confession was reinstated as a meaningful part of the institution, and I applaud the accomplishment. But the treatment of people- the thing I suspect Jesus would have looked at as a measure of true faith- was shabby.
I was left with a nagging sense that the liberals were never as terrible as I’d been told, and the conservatives were never as wonderful as advertised. Many of my professors in the “liberal” seminary were men and women of great faith, commitment to Christ and concern for his church. Both sides played loose with the truth. Both could be cruel to those in the middle, both were “parties” that thought in herds, and both saw their mission as much in terms of conflict within as missions and evangelism without.
This nagging sense of the flaws, agenda and group-think that pervades theological controversy among conservative Calvinists has not left me. As I grow older, I much prefer the study of Biblical theology to the doctrinal debates that currently rage among conservative evangelicals. I cannot comfortably say that the reformation of the church needs to remake it into the image of what I saw in the conservative resurgence in the SBC. I support much of that reformation, but where is the humility? The generosity of Jesus? The flavor and aroma of grace? I have had enough of war metaphors, because I have seen enough war. No more.
I am not like you because I constantly find Jesus taking me out of the places and labels other Christians find essential, and instead showing me that he is more, greater, deeper, wider than any way I can try to limit him. He was greater than my fundamentalism. He was greater than my Charismatic phase. He was greater than my liberal, seminary student days. He was greater than my years as a youth minister on church staff. Now I am finding he is greater than my years of Calvinism.
There is a visible horizon with Jesus, because there are things I can understand and affirm in the creeds and confessions. But there is no actual horizon. His love, grace and majesty are never ending. My theology is a map, not a photograph. A sail, not an anchor. Faith is a mystery, not a certainty, because I can never be certain that my mind has captured more than a glimpse of his glory. A hope, not a possession, because nothing I possess can hold the one who holds me.
I am not like you because I take no comfort in theological assertions. I feel little affection for most of them. I have a passionate love for the God of the Gospel, the one mediator Jesus Christ, but this love for God surely comes from God, not from me. When I try to think great thoughts about God, and when others propose great theologies, they are impressive, until the reality of Christ refocuses and recalibrates my vision. Then that theology becomes scratching in the dirt.
The defining moments of my life have come in deeper experiences of the reality of God coming to me in Jesus. I read to know that I am not alone in my experience with this God. That the glimpses of glory that have flashed upon my undeserving heart and mind are not fantasies of someone desperate to believe in something good in a meaningless world.
In January of 1984, I was in a class with Dr. Timothy George on “The Theology of Luther.” He was lecturing on Luther’s discovery of justification by faith alone. I was sitting by the window, listening, when I had what I can only describe as a deep, mystical experience, one that continues to resonate within me. In it I saw, and felt, the vast chasm that separates humanity from God, a divide so vast that it is as if there is no God at all. And then I experienced the reality of the mediation of Jesus across this divide. I sensed that all things in God, and all things in that separation, and all things in human life, were encompassed in this one being of Jesus. All was well, all was well, and all will be well.
This was not an “aha” moment of theology, reformed or otherwise. It was a gripping moment of sensing the true nature of the universe and all that exists. It was a moment when scales fell from my eyes. I wrote furiously, and for months afterward, felt the power of that visionary moment. Twenty years later, I tell you that this is the God I know and the God I love. The God who is absent to us, yet ever-present, always embracing us, and our sins, in Jesus. I recognize this God in Luther. In Calvin. In Merton. In Capon. In Wright. In many, many other friends from many other traditions and theologies.
Those of you who wonder why I react to some persons (Osteen) and not others (John Paul II), just go back and read the last few paragraphs. You’ll still judge that I am muddled, and that is acceptable to me. But perhaps you will understand a bit better.
I will continue to call myself a Calvinist, albeit a poor one. I welcome you into my writing and my journey. My readers are very special and important to me. I don’t mind your judgments and your critiques. (Those of you who insist it’s “unloving” to critique Phil Johnson, Joel Osteen or Rick Warren are excused for the rest of the day. Go read this.) All is ask is that you understand that God has placed me in a ministry to those much like the people Jesus ministered to, and my ministry is not a contention for Calvinism. I counsel those whose families are dysfunctional and cruel. I pastor those who have been rejected and abandoned by parents, and those whose parents were taken away by tragedy and selfishness. I pray with the sexually abused. I share Christ’s gospel with students from all over the world and every religion. I open the doors of our Christian community to those whose mistakes have cost them other opportunities. I preach 20 times a month in places and to people other people don’t want to preach to. I live for the Gospel, and I am spending my life, health and years in communicating Christ to students in word and example. To do this, I must live Mere Christianity and the truth of one Body of Christ. I am not all about defending Calvinism and I have no desire to be a promoter of Calvinism. I preach and teach within the theology that I believe, but I do not make Calvinism an issue. I believe it would be unloving and foolish to do so. (I think even Spurgeon regretted the amount of attention he gave to Calvinism- by name- in his early preaching.)
Tonight I listened to a girl talk about a sexual abuse incident that happened to her just over a year ago, an incident disbelieved by her divorcing parents, and an incident that is robbing her of her normality and sanity. I shared with her the Gospel of the suffering Christ, and his power to allow us to endure evil. It is the God of the reformed faith that I am talking about when I tell her that God allows some dark lines to be drawn into a beautiful picture. My prayer is for her to come to utterly trust and value Jesus as Lord. My Calvinism tells me to pray that God will sovereignly create such a faith. I could not counsel hope to such a person without a trust in a great, sovereign, God. I take the treasures and the weapons of the reformed faith into every battle, but only because Christ is my captain and my victory. Calvinism is the way God has brought me to one greater than Calvinism or any other attempt to outline the reality of one who is reality itself.
I am not like you. Every day I wander further from the safety of Calvinism into the wideness of God’s mercy. Warn me. Talk about me, but let me go. I have never been a risk-taker in life, but in this journey I want to ride far away from home. I will return from time to time, but for now I am exploring the Holy Wild.
The Internet Monk Archives 
Michael,
I like to read what you write.
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I suspect the problem with “religion” is due to its’ having being hijacked by “man” to further whatever goals “man” had at the time. Many years ago, I decided to deal with God directly without the intervening mumbo jumbo. So far he and I are getting along great!! Maybe that is what you’re really saying in an excellently written piece!!!!
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There are some allusions in this post to theological controversies that I don’t understand (being neither Calvinist nor Baptist), but the parts I did understand, I found very moving.
A line from a book that I was reading a few days ago has stayed with me. It was from a chapter about the divisions in the Christian Churches. The line was: “What unites us is much greater than what separates us.”
What unites is Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the same Gospel.
After reading the book, I came away feeling strongly that as Christians from different denominations, our enemies are not each other. Our enemy is the sin and evil in the world, and we must strive to come together in love and brotherhood to fight it.
=====
On another note. I live in a third world country where the social evils of poverty, violence, etc., are very real. I’ve often felt that it is when we come face to face with these realities that the power and call of Christ’s first public proclamation echoes most strongly: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19).
God bless you as you strive to bring the Light of Christ’s Good News to dark places (and lives darkened by pain suffering). I urge you not to lose hope, whether in your missionary work, or in your written work here on this blog which has inspired so many people and raised so many important questions about the faith. Please don’t lose hope, because love is always greater than arguments, than disappointments, than sin.
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If your a Calvinist, then didint God predestine Michael to write this? In which case, why are some Calvinists whining about it?
If it happenned, it was God’s will, right?
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Thanks, Michael. Your comments on the negative consequences that occurred at Southern due to the fundamentalist takeover especially hit home–I know several professors who were pushed out of there during that time for one reason or another, and each one of them is an amazing Christian with a deep and vibrant faith. What was done to them is a travesty. I’m glad that, years later, you’re putting a voice to what happened and calling it for what it is.
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Lucky for Bender and me, God saves us irrespective of our inherent goodness, or reading comprehension for that matter. 🙂
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I usually don’t post a comment when I don’t have anything to say [cough], but I couldn’t NOT post a small “good post” comment.
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Michael,
Thanks for sharing the story of your father. Heart-rending.
What does it say about “Church” that a few decades back such a man would be shunned, but not today? Why? The “Church” rarely acknowledges how it shifts with the culture. So now, in most large churches, perhaps half the adults have been divorced, yet they are not shunned or shamed (damaged yes, but not rejected). For me, that is an admission that we have been (and continue) to be legalists.
I try and imagine a “Church” where real vulnerability, depth and love would flourish. What Merton called a “climate of mercy”?
It is no small coincidence that the two main enemies of the Faith in the early church werer Gnosticism and Legalism. Seems these two are always with us.
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I know exactly where O.S.O. is coming from.
I too, read this article like this:
I,(good) am not like you,(bad) because…. (explanation of what is wrong with me.)
Michael, you say that it is only a personal essay. True that it is about yourself, but also, it is about us, the readers.
It is not meant to be condescending, but then condescending things are written.
When I read this, I thought, Hoo boy, Michael is getting grumpy and needs our prayers, but now I am affording the benefit of a doubt that the reason the article is written this way is for dramatic effect.
I’ve been reading the Internet Monk site for a couple of years now, and after reading this essay, I began googling for alternative sites for Christian articles and discussion, which is unfortunate. I’ve directed a number of people to this website, and I hope that I still can do this. I hope that there will remain a balance between critical and uplifting articles on it.
Michael, you are different from us in the sense that you are unique. We are all unique from one another, and no one has the corner on the ‘I’m different’ market. One thing that is the same about each of us: we are all different.
Like you, we all have a story to tell. If you knew my story, you would find it hard to believe, but there are so many of us who have unbelievable stories. No doubt the things that happen to us help to form the things we believe and they shape our lives. (Yet, still, I don’t think that I am only simply the sum of what has happened to me. I think that the true ‘Me’ is the person I would be if I was able to shine in an environment in which the very best of me could be realized, like a specimen plant that is grown in a bell jar with the best conditions all of the time. Like the son who would go golfing regularily with his father and play just horribly each time, but when he got a ‘hole in one’, he said to his dad, “Now that, Dad, is the real ‘Me’!”)
Now, it would be great if we could all just allow each other to shine as the unique individuals that we are.
I’m reading between the lines here and understanding the point you are wanting to make about living the Christian life. I won’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.
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I couldn’t decide whether you were just doing an involuntary emotional puke, or deliberately going for some kind of Guinness World Record in the “blog histrionics” category.
Either way, I’d say you’ve had a couple of Really Bad Days, dude. If you were a Calvinist, I’d counsel you to trust the goodness of divine Providence, rather than blaming all of us filthy Genevan nincompoops for your troubles. But since Calvinists are apparently the main thing you despise the most, I got no good advice for you.
I knew a guy just like you who finally got relief by becoming a Roman Catholic, and pouring out his heart daily to the Blessed Virgin. Something to think about.
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Thank you, thank you for this article. It truly made me weep. It also gave me hope for my own journey, even while bringing up painful memories of my sojourn in the Reformed camp.
Thank you also for “When I am Weak”.
Few Christians dare to be so honest.
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Michael
Thanks for sharing your heart. It’s not pleasant to start to “undress” yourself, when you know you are going to get a beating.
Thanks for you courage to share. Even though I don’t agree with some of your theology this post really meant a lot to me
I’m sure some of the critics of this post just don’t want to openly acknowledge their own feeble struggling moments and will never expose themselves this way. Those kind of folk and maybe I generalize too much, but Sunday morning, answering when asked about their well being, will say “Praise the Lord, God is good, but back at the ranch …
Thanks Michael
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One of the themes of the comments has struck me has been that of the role of personal testimony: how do we read or listen to another’s story? Doesn’t the very expression of a story involve some sort of advocacy, some sort of articulation of the “way things are?”
Or perhaps, it is the appeal for community: to witness to our lives is more doxological than evangelistic. Something in my life resonates with your story (and boy, does it ever), if for no other reason than that I do not feel alone on my own path.
Still the ancient Calvinist in me tugs at me, doubting human reasoning of any sort. So there comes the strange notion: I distrust what I instinctively like — odd, isn’t it? — that is, while my first reaction may be to acclaim this or that as the Right Thing, it may very well be little more than a reflection of my own scarcely articulated prejudices or beliefs.
A witness like yours is a gift, but less one to be opened than one taken to heart. In silence.
Bill Harris
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>And how are we different to you? Paragraph 3 says “I’m not like most of you because my dad was divorced”. So there you go.
OSO.. thanks for the invite. I’m sure it’s a great place to visit. If you ever come here, I’ll buy you dinner and read you this essay with proper emphasis.
The way you quoted the above statement is just…..bizarre. You have misquoted me to say I am not like my Reformed friends because my dad was divorced. You stopped in mid sentence! “…and the legalism in my church destroyed his willingness to fellowship and worship with other Christians. ”
In fact, I am sure lots of my friends parents were divorced. But how many of their fathers were turned away from churches because of that divorce? How many of the preachers in the groups were only able to preach for their fathers a handful of times? How many realized that the way their father was treated by the church was indicative of the way the Gospel is misunderstood in the church? ANd then that experience shaped their own ministry?
It is impossible to understand why I am not James White or John Macarthur or John Piper (who won’t perform second marriages) if you don’t know this part of my story.
I respect you brother, but you have misconstrued the purpose of this essay. It is not a personal attack. It is an apologia, i.e. an apology, a confession of life-shaping experiences that make me a unique person. Construing it as an attack on Calvinists in a strange reading indeed. I might suggest you are reading it like I am…..a Calvinist 🙂
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OSO has been expressing my thoughts exactly. When I read this I understood it in the same way.
But since you pointed out that such was not your intent, I will gladly give you the benefit of the doubt. I’m sorry that I took it the wrong way, but OSO’s understanding seems to make perfect sense to me.
Of course, I’m speaking as one who has on more than one occasion mis-communicated on my own blog, even at times greatly offending people (without intending to). I realize the limits of internet communication and the real possibility of misunderstanding.
Some of your own experiences resonate with me, Michael. I’m a robust Calvinist from a broken home who has been through some big messes in the last few years. It was my theology that got me through them.
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If you ever visit Newcastle, Australia, I would like to pour you a glass of Shiraz. You can even stay here with your missus for a while if you want. And that’s the honest truth.
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“I am not like you. That’s not an attitude of condescension, it’s just a fact that I need to bring to the front of our relationship. You are writing me letters and notes about N.T. Wright, my views on inerrancy, my coziness with Catholicism. Your concern is appreciated, but now it’s time to stop it. We need to accept that we are different, and we are not on the same page in this journey.”
Yes I read it. You are saying that Reformed people like myself are different to you. Yes we disagree with you over Wright. Yes we may disagree with you over Catholicism. And you are saying that you and I are “not on the same page in this journey” – ie, we are different.
Yes it is me you are writing to: “I’m Not Like You: An Apologia to My Readers (Calvinists especially)”. Well if that’s not me then who the heck are you writing to?
And how are we different to you? Paragraph 3 says “I’m not like most of you because my dad was divorced”. So there you go. You’re writing to us (and therefore to me) and seem to be clearly portraying us in a negative light. On and on the “I am not like you because…” comments go. Surely you wrote this to us… and to me?
The fact that you say “This is not an attitude of condescension” just makes it all the more confusing. It’s like saying “I don’t think you guys are idiots” and then saying “The reason why you guys are idiots is because…”
I’ve just been around to BHT and seen some of the stuff there. I won’t comment on any of the details, but the fact is that I suspect you are getting pretty angry at this point with people you are disagreeing with over certain issues. Don’t see me in this particular way.
I have emailed you in the past and apologized for some of the comments I had written in one of your posts. I’m all for reconciliation. To be honest, I can never feel like I can “work you out” Michael. I have defended a lot of your comments in the past and posted all sorts of positive messages about many articles. I’ve never met you but because I appreciate your writing I consider myself one of your “friends” and supporters. But I felt that this article alienated me – and obviously others – who have supported you in the past.
Read your own article again. Read it from my perspective. How would one of your Calvinist readers interpret the article?
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Michael,
If you’re ever in St. Louis, I’d like to buy you a beer. Your words are a breath of fresh air to this sometimes weary reader. I wish you God’s best in your ministry endeavors.
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Have you read the second paragraph? Are you writing me letters on the subjects listed?
??????
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I don’t doubt your intention to show that the Christian life is complex. I know that myself. One of the best articles I read from you was about your Dad and how he coped with depression. I learnt that the church needs to be more compassionate. I battle with depression myself, but nowhere near as bad as your dad.
But the fact is that you addressed the article to your Calvinist and Reformed friends. Well, I’m assuming that I am one of these.
Then you say “I am not like you” – “you” referring to your Calvinist and Reformed friends and therefore you are saying “I am not like you, OSO”.
Then you say “I am not like you because…” and every statement is aimed at your Calvinist and Reformed readers.
Did you not know that this would happen? I’m not being paranoid, I’m just reading what you seem to be saying!
Fine – tell your story. That’s what makes you and your writing so attractive to us your audience. Being fallible and showing your struggles in an honest way is why I and others keep coming back for more. It’s because we identify with you. Instead of being filled with “God can make you happy if you just have more faith” crap, we choose to come here and listen to your struggles because we know it is a more real and a more Biblical way of doing things.
Can you at least admit that the way you worded your essay could easily be misconstrued? Can you admit that people could misinterpret what you are saying not because of a problem in their literary analysis but because it was written badly?
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>And then you made all these judgements and placed me (and others) into a convenient little box.
Find a single judgement I made on you.
OSO. Sad. Very, very sad. Someone says, I want to tell you my story. The things that make me “not the typical Calvinist” and you read it as judgment and criticism.
That’s paranoid. You have missed the point.
Yeah, the catch phrase is provocative. I like provocative writing. But listening to me say these are my experiences is condemning you??? That’s strange.
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“My Calvinistic and Reformed friends. If we are still on speaking terms, I need to say something to you. I am not like you”
**Inference: The article is aimed at Christians from a Reformed and Calvinist perspective. The author is explicitly distancing himself from the readers.
“I’m not like most of you because my dad was divorced”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists do not suffer from family agony.
“I’m not like you because I believe much of contemporary Christianity has nothing to do with the public ministry of Jesus or the reality of his Kingdom”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists are involved in ministry that has no link to the ministry of Jesus.
“I’m not like you because I learned the value of silence from that darned Catholic, Thomas Merton.”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists speak too much and don’t value the teachings of people outside the Calvinist stable.
“I’m not like you because I have chosen to be part of an intentional, full-time, residential, mission-oriented Christian community”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists do not choose to be part of similar Christian communities and therefore do not care about these people.
“You see, I have to love my brothers and sisters with different theology because we labor side by side in the trenches of ministry together.”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists do NOT care about Christians who are not Calvinists.
“I am not like you because I have seen the theological battle for the Southern Baptist Convention up close, and I realize that both sides- all those involved- are capable of being right and wrong.”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists are blind to our own sins.
“I am not like you because I constantly find Jesus taking me out of the places and labels other Christians find essential, and instead showing me that he is more, greater, deeper, wider than any way I can try to limit him.”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists are too restricted for our own good, for we limit God and “write off” the spiritual experiences of other Christians.
“I am not like you because I take no comfort in theological assertions.”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists are happy and comfortable with our theological system.
“Tonight I listened to a girl talk about a sexual abuse incident that happened to her just over a year ago”
**Inference: Us dreaded Calvinists have no idea what is going on in people’s lives and the pains they go through.
I’m sorry Michael, but, like you, I am an English teacher. When you say “I am not like you because….” and start the article by saying “My Calvinistic and Reformed friends… I need to say something to you.”, then you are essentially aiming the article at us. If you wished this as an expression of your own divided thoughts (which is more than welcome), then you should have probably addressed the article to the “Calvinist part of Michael Spencer”. By addressing it to us, you have made us interpret the article as a letter to us and therefore an expression of the differences you have between us – the representatives of Reformed theology – and yourself. When I read your article, it was addressed TO ME. And then you made all these judgements and placed me (and others) into a convenient little box.
If that was not your intention then perhaps there was a flaw in your writing style – where you opened yourself up to be misunderstood. That’s what I hope has happened because I’m pretty damn sure that if your essay was handed to someone who did not know you or your website, they would interpret it the way I have. I don’t think my exegetical and literary skills are wrong at this point.
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Michael,
Let me say as a present student of the now totally made over Southern Seminary, one who is in constant contact with Calvinists almost everyday of the week, that most of them that I know are willing to listen and want nothing to do with a theology that is divorced from piety. I have met the kind of people that you are talking about (I probably used to be one myself), but I wouldn’t accuse the majority of the Reformed community of being that way.
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Hello Michael,
I always feel rather protective of people who are criticised after writing something so open and honest and personal. You lay out your life and your thoughts for us; you know that not everyone’s going to agree with you and may take a shot at you and yet here are the words. I really admire you for your courage. 🙂 Here’s a big cyberhug to say that I totally understand what you mean when you say “I am not like you”.
No offence to my calvinist friends, but I’ve had brushes with Reformed people who really hurt me with their words just because I don’t prescribe to their views or am not interested to. It has caused difficulties in me in trying to love them and to be gracious to them. A lot of times I just feel like losing control and snapping back. If only these people can see beyond their theology and see ME, a person who shares the same faith in Christ like them.
(I blogged about this in http://www.messychristian.com/archives/2005/03/will_a_nice_cal.htm)
Can’t we just let Michael share his story without throwing stones at him? I do understandsome of your concerns, but I think I’d like to give him a safe place – and this is his blog after all – to express himself.
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Michael, I’d like to take just a moment to thank you for writing. I don’t suppose it’s easy; heaven knows, I have a pathological aversion to writing down anything this personal which could be quoted back at me. But all the same, to read someone’s own experiences is very helpful to those of us who, in our own situations, don’t always quite fit. And you’re right: you’re not like me. But there again, I’m not like you, so that’s all right.
Put this one in the book, put it towards the front (maybe even *at* the front). But make sure you sort out that reference to “Talk Hard” first!
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You know, one of the main reasons I read this site faithfully is BECAUSE I don’t always agree with what you write. I can’t imagine reading/listening to only people/ideas that I agree with. That’s like only talking with myself. It’s unproductive, and narrowing.
This is one of my big beefs with modern evangelicalism. Ever since the Reformation, we’ve thought that the solution to any disagreement is to split off and form another homogenous group.
NO. That can’t be the answer. We’ve got to keep talking, listening, and working towards Truth. Before we got so used to church splits, the church contained EVERYONE. As long as you were a Christian, you were in the church, and you had to learn to get along, even with disagreements.
Unity is not found in homogeneity (is that a word?) but in uniting with each other as we are. We’re not all alike, and thank goodness for that! The church has room for both Peter and Paul, for Luther and Pope John Paul II, for Calvin and Cranmer.
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Aaron:
There is an essay beyond the first line. When read it says: I am not attempting to condescend to anyone. I am trying to tell my Calvinistic friends- i.e. those who might listen, which I can assure you is a minority of Calvinists these days- about what human experience looks like. All of us have one. Of course, accepting that would mean we’d have to listen to a lot of meaningless yammering about stuff that happened to people and how it affected them, and really, who wants to read that when we could be doing theological surgery.
Your insightful opinion of my work is duly noted.
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Michael,
I must agree with OSO’s first comment. If, as you claim, you are really only writing about your own experience and not aiming this at us, then why do address it to “My dear Calvinistic and Reformed friends,” as though all of us are completely clueless about the issues that you have expounded here? This entire essay, while full of good content, is just plain unfair to a whole lot of people.
“I’m not like you” has become the chief subject of all of your essays now.
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Anne:
I think many IM readers feel that they are “alone, yet never alone.” And I believe many IM readers have the same impulse I have to turn towards those who insist on the boxes I must fit into and say “I am not like you.”
As I said in an earlier post, I am not denying our common humanity, but I am pleading for our unique life journeys to be respected.
For example, my ministry setting means I CANNOT be a Calvinisitic polemicist. I must accept and affirm the faith journey of those I work beside. Yet there are those who insists nothing matters more than the assertions of Calvinism, which they assume equal the Gospel. I cannot, not because I do not read their texts or know their confession, but because my life situation has made me a different person.
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Michael,
Take comfort in the fact that nothing that has happened on your journey is new and all of it has happened to the rest of us, in different ways and different times.
May I kindly point out that you are not different from the rest of us. Oh, you are a unique person, but you have like passions, and like errors, and like experiences as is common to all men. Distancing yourself, metaphorically or physically, will not improve you. When you begin to measure the distance between yourself and others, the only growth that occurs is the kind you want to suppress.
Like your father, all of us suffer at the hands of other Christians, sooner or later. For me, it is ongoing—ever since my church elders converted to hedonism and I did not, being outcast by my friends and family, and eventually pushed out of the church (which is why I started reading you—to find out what makes hedonists tick). I cling to Christ for Who else do I have?
Michael, you are not different. And I donÂ’t think it will help you to convince yourself that you are. You are just like the rest of us. Ever trying to balance truth and love.
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Laura.
My repeating intoning of “I’m not like you” is on purpose. It is a persistent, human truth. Yes, there is a human template. We are made in God’s image, sinful, fallen, tragic, loved, etc. We are also very very different, and it is the differences, the human differences, the unique human differences that I want to emphasize.
Why? Because the theological camps that war on the internet and in real life are primarily made up of people who don’t care about the human journey of a person as much as they care about the theological issues and answers that person is able to articulate.
“I’m not like you,” is not an arrogant attempt to say I am better than someone. It’s bizarre- truly bizarre- that someone can read the essay and hear the voice of the Pharisee. My journey is about what God has done in me, not what he has not done in you. But the people who are seeking to destroy my credibility as a Christian do so by minimizing my humanity.
I wrote a while back the THE STORY MATTERS (https://internetmonk.com/archives/2004/12/019820.html) I am pleading for the story to matter. By telling you some of my story I am not downplaying yours.
I despise the whining you talk about. I am not whining or making excuses. I am telling you who I am, but Calvinists seem offended at having to listen to someone talk about their LIFE and not just their THEOLOGY. It is the dehumanizing of theology that is turning me out of the Calvinist camp.
I am not made more human or more loving or more real by the espousing of doctrine. I must live, love, choose and fail to be human.
I am IN NO WAY seeking your sympathy for my dad’s estrangement for the church. I am simply telling my readers who I am, and why I am passionate for grace rather than law. I am not saying being at OBI makes me a better Christian than you. I am saying it makes me ME.
I appreciate your honest feedback, but I am not announcing my superiority or victimhood. I am telling my story. That’s all. Even the discussion of my story seems a bit odd. What is there to critique about ME TELLING WHY I AM WHO I AM? Aren’t our own stories ever immune from criticism?
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Your work for Christ is commendable. I don’t come from the same tradition you do, so it’s hard for me to really get a firm grasp on Calvinst or reform doctrines, as an insider, that is.
I first read you when I googled Joel Osteen’s name.
We don’t agree about everything but personally, I take comfort in the idea that there are others out there, even those who are pastors, leaders, teachers, or prophets, who are working out their faith in a very real way. (For them, faith in Christ is certain, yet they are not so certain in their faith that they become smug, self-righteous, and uncaring.) Would you say that Jesus worked out his faith? I know Nikos Kazantzakis would and he penned some of the most beautiful words about Christ that have ever been penned, even though some would denounce him and his faith (or lack thereof).
There is too much judgment to go around and you’re right about its overwhelming presence in modern evangelicalism. Perhaps, that is so because churches are made up of people and as people we intrisically yearn to judge one another, so as to deflect our own shortcomings, failures, and prejudices?
There is one thing, though, that I always confront–that is, to admit every day that I need God, that I am not perfect, and He knows the way that I should go.
I thought this passage from Luke 18:9-14 would be pertinent: “To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: ‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: “God, I thank you that I am not like other men–robbers, evildoers, adulterers–or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.” But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.'”
There are many of us out here working out our faith, like you, and we all do that in different ways. The kingdom of heaven is for everyone, but in the kingdom, our aim is to become like Him.
Critiquing is a worthwhile endeavor but I am always amazed by one thing: no matter how much I learn and read, whether in school or in church, there is one thing that I must continually critique more than anything else: my own life.
May God bless you in your endeavors!
Austin
P.S. I am thrilled to know that you work with children from a variety of socio-economic backgrounds. That is where my heart rests, too. I’m planning to pursue more graduate education at SWBTS in Texas. If you have any thoughts, comments, or advice about that, please let me know. Thanks, Michael.
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I became a “Calvinist” years before I was introduced to the reality of Christ within me. Today, while I still accept basic reformed theology, my theology isn’t that’s important to me; what’s important to me is the reality of “Christ in me,” and that’s what I’d prefer to fellowship with other believers about.
My “theology” never gave me any comfort when I was confronted by difficulties and crises — especially crises in the church. What began to lift me and give me encouragement was the realization, as Paul prayed for the Ephesians (and, I believe, for all believers), that there is a knowledge of the breadth, length, height and depth of the love of Christ which is “beyond comprehension” — which means, this knowledge cannot be conveyed by any systematic theology, no matter how good and accurate that theology is. In short, the study of theology is a worthy pursuit, but some people need to get off their theological high-horse and get into contact with the living Jesus Christ.
BTW, Merton was one of those who also helped me along when it felt like my journey had ground to a halt.
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Thank you for posting this! My journey is similar to yours and I’m grateful you shared your heart!
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JA,
That’s probably the most important point. Unfortunately, there are too many Calvinists out there who exhibit a profound lack of humility. And they are, unfortunately, also some of the most vocal and the most prone to post their (irony alert) inspired prophetic thunderings (irony alert) in places like this. Makes you wonder what kind of church they participate in in real life…
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I understood where you were coming from and why you wrote what you wrote, and I liked the good behind it. But some of me also agreed with Laura, especially about the first point.
People need to learn how to express their opinions with you in Christ’s love, and need to learn when their opinions are not the most important thing, but do not forget everything else about humility too.
Thus say I, an arrogant man.
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Thanks for your honesty, it obviously threatens some and frees others. It frees me.
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Michael, it takes courage to be vulnerable and share things as you did in this writing and I applaude you for doing so. I think thatyou did so eloquently and humbly.
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Response deleted.
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Well, I guess I’ll join OSO in the loose-grip-on-reality camp this time. I’m sorry Michael, you often do inspire me, crack me up, cause me to go study my Bible, or otherwise improve my mind. This article isn’t doing it for me. For two reasons.
One, it feels so self-congratulatory. (“I thank you Lord that I am not like other men–like those safe, smug Calvinists over there, for example.”)
And two, even though you tell OSO that it’s really only about your OWN journey, you have used language that makes it about everybody else’s journey. When you say, “I am not like you.” And then proceed to make extremely value-laden statements about what you believe, what you’re learning, what you do, you make it a statement on OSO’s journey and on mine.
Do you believe that there are no Calvinist theologians (or no Michael Spencer critics) that have watched their divorced parents suffer in/out of the church? Do you think that none of us read or enjoy Merton? Do you think we’re all sitting safely in nice affluent homes, ignoring the wounded outside? Are you really the only one who is on a journey? You may protest that you didn’t say that at all–but your article screams that to me. Every assertion that you’re “not like you” says you think none of the people who are criticizing you are doing/thinking the things you are doing and thinking.
I think that OSO’s response is an objection to your making the same mistake you are accusing the Calvinists of: don’t put us all in the same box. Just because you’re getting a few letters from people who think you shouldn’t be reading Wright doesn’t mean that all of us are afraid to read him. Just because you’ve run into Calvinists who have the 5/0 mentality doesn’t mean that all of us do.
I don’t fit into a little box any better than you do, Michael, so I have to confess that your continual repetition of “I’m not like you” starts to get on my nerves, and I end up thinking, “Just get over yourself.”
With much respect,
Laura
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Wonderment and peace — a truly inspiring piece. Ignore OSO — reality has a very loose grip there anyway, and keep loving Jesus and working out your salvation with fear and trembling. And most of all, keep writing about it. It helps.
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Michael, I said a few weeks ago that you may be a prophet, and this post is more evidence. You remind me of Elijah whining and feeling all alone in the wilderness. Remember God’s answer? There were still 7,000 in Israel who had not bowed the knee to the Baals. Peace. Milton
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After thirty years of “Reformed Theology” I understand what you say. In the final analysis we don’t have faith in a system but faith in a Living Being. That “Living Being” while in this world, suffered and lived among people of no regard, of broken lives seared with sin, pain and suffering.
Acquiring knowledge of Christ is far different then trusting Him. When we accept and understand that all knowledge will fall far short of what we need in this world of woes, when the outstretched hand is all we really have, it will not be Calvin, or Luther or Spurgen or John Paul that will take our hand and lead us through the valley of the shadow of death, but it will be God Himself that will lead us and not forsake us.
I would never give up or replace my thirty years of reformed education, for God used it to save my sanity and build my faith through a reasonable understanding of what is true but when it all comes down to it I have to trust not the sum of my knowledge but the One who is greater than all knowledge.
Trust based on knowledge alone isn’t easy because most times our knowledge won’t be able raise the dead or cure the lame or save our loved ones from the pain and suffering caused by nature, their own hand or at the hand of others. Sin and ruin are greater than knowledge. The fruit of knowledge isn’t faith. The fruit of God’s Love is a delicate thread of hope called faith. From his POV it is not a thread but an indestructible chain but for us, mostly a thread.
T Bone say’s “wild things must run free”. Lewis say’s “He’s not a tame Lion”. Holding on to His hand will hardly be comfortable. We must therefore care for and encourage one another realizing that our care, our compassion, our willingness to suffer alongside one another may be the best we have to give. Our care for one another will require us to go to places that our knowledge will prove to be an insufficient guide and companion. Our only hope then is in the One holding on to our hand and leading us through the darkness.
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OSO….
This is one of my most confessional pieces. It doesn’t have a thing to do with your Calvinism or your love of theology. It has to do with MY journey.
The problem I am having with so many Calvinists is they aren’t letting me have that journey. If I say I am reformed, I can’t like Wright, fellowship with Catholics or question inerrancy. It’s EXACTLY what Kurt says on the BHT’s newest t-shirt: “5 Points, 0 Questions.”
To say that I am questioning YOUR journey and what God is doing in YOUR life is crazy.
I am trying to supply some of the information to help reformed friends (or republican friends or fundamentalist friends) understand that Life isn’t an outline and God brings us to himself by roads he chooses, not by maps we write.
I am not in any way making a comment on your view of the Gospel. Your ministry or your experience with theology. I too have had seasons of blessing in reformed theology. This just isn’t one of them.
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It is incredible how two people can read an article completely differently. I thought it was one of your best and I agree it is one for the book.
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I’m Not Like You Either: An Apologia to Michael Spencer
When I first started coming here a few months ago, I was impressed by your courage. I was impressed that you spoke the truth about things that concerned me. My study of the Bible over the years has opened my eyes to the vacuousness and inanity within the contemporary evangelical church. Your articles were a breath of fresh air – someone with the testicular fortitude to say what needed to be said.
But now I feel weird. I feel as though the Michael Spencer I enjoyed reading is not the person I imagined he was. Granted, you are not perfect but neither is anyone here. You are still struggling with your faith – I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I suppose my error was that I felt that my adherence to Calvinism was as a result of my study of the Bible. Now you are telling me that my belief system is just another part of the problem. That the poor folk living in Kentucky who don’t know the Gospel are somehow worse off because of my adherence to Calvinism. I didn’t realise it before, but now I am a legalist – responsible for your Father’s depression and rejection from the church. I am apparently part of a wider conspiracy to enforce my views on others and prevent Christians from independent thought (such as reading NT Wright).
Worse… I didn’t realise my error of loving theology. I always thought that theology was the study of God that arose from God’s inspired word and was always eminently practical and always important. Now I have been told that this is not the case at all. Now I have been told that the study of God is not practical and is certainly not important.
I always felt as though Calvinism and its resurgence would be good for the church. Given the total lack of gospel preaching by Joel Osteen and the heretical rantings of Word-faith preachers, preaching the gospel and believing it to be the power of God for the Salvation of all who believe seemed to be the right thing to do. Preach the word, in season and out of season. Apparently, though, that is incorrect. Why? Because Calvinism just seems to be another meaningless word and division in the church.
So, I’ll stop preaching the word. I’ll stop preaching the Gospel. I am, unlike you, completely happy and well adjusted. My parents were perfect and did not suffer at all during their lives. The people of Newcastle, Australia – most of whom are poorly educated unbelievers and have heard no Christian message worth a damn – will just have to wait until Hell.
Moreover, I’ll just have to stop visiting those conservative Calvinist think tank websites and stop reading their articles. You know, the ones that lament Biblical ignorance and expose false gospels – well they’re all theological and not suited to the good people of Kentucky or Newcastle.
Maybe I’ll even change my political colours and stop voting for left-wing parties. Since we Calvinists are all the same politically I suppose everyone else here who are Calvinists (and therefore supporters of left-wing parties) will probably do the same.
Yes – I will change. When someone willingly and lovingly exposes a wrong belief in my life, then God will convict me. I will always change my mind when I am proved wrong.
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You voiced what I feel; I’m exactly like you in this respect. 🙂 Thanks for this great piece.
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Without doubt one of the most beautiful and inspiring things I have read in a long time.
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I was going to give you a push, but I see you don’t need one. 🙂 Very well done. Add this one to the “book” list.
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Absolutely beautiful. Thank you.
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thank you. very inspiring.
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