Posts from — May 2006

What doth the Synod of Dort have to do with Sin City, USA? Find out in my review of Richard Mouw’s book, Calvinism in the Las Vegas Airport.

ichard Mouw, President of Fuller Theological Seminary, is a prolific author and a Calvinist. In this strangely-titled book, Mouw presents his vision of how Calvinists ought to live out their distinctive theology in daily life.

There is a fairly long story behind the title of this book, which the author recounts in chapter 1 (pp. 11ff). Cutting through some of the back-story, let’s just say that Mouw got the title from a scene in a movie where an elder from the Christian Reformed Church tries to evangelize a young female prostitute using the five points of Calvinism. Intriguing, isn’t it? I certainly thought so when I first heard about the book.

And I first heard of this book from my friend Mark Mitchell. Mark is smart guy with a solid understanding of scripture. He recommended the book to me as a starting point of discussion between us. I enjoyed reading the book and discussing it with Mark, and the expression “thought-provoking” is the most precise thing I can come up with to describe my reaction to this book. I’ll have more to say about this at the end of this post.

Richard Mouw states his purpose for writing this book on page 17 when he writes,

I am more interested here in questions about Calvinist character and mood. I want to focus here on how to be a Calvinist in the twenty-first century…. This is a book for people who want to see how it is possible to draw on the strengths of Calvinism as they make their way through the complexities of contemporary life.

When I read that page and the chapter where it appears, I felt excited. What a promising idea, that Calvinism might be more than just a great way to describe the Bible’s teaching on salvation. Could it also be the secret to living an “integrated Christian life” (p. 24) as Mouw suggests?

Unfortunately, the book promised more than it delivered. As I moved from page to page, I found myself more and more disappointed. This is not to say that Mouw is just taking us for a ride around in circles in his own theological cul-de-sac; no, this book lays out a road but it is a twisty, winding dirt lane that leaves you confused about the intended destination and maybe even a little car sick.

Calvinism in the Las Vegas Airport is only 119 pages in length. But this is one rare case where a longer book might be better. Calvinism is an important subject to me, but this book is so short that I felt like I went to Orchestra Hall to hear a great piano sonata, only to be treated to Schroeder plunking out one little ditty on his toy piano. On this subject, nothing less than Van Cliburn on a Steinway concert grand will do.

This brings me to the issue of the book’s audience, and I’m not sure I really know who the intended audience is. It is definitely not for people taking a spin in the Camry with only a theological learner’s permit. Yet, you don’t have to have to have a theological CDL to understand the book. If you grew up in a reformed church and understand what Calvinism is, then you won’t need a seminary or Bible college degree to get through this book. Perhaps this is the audience Mouw had in mind—those who understand and hold to the doctrines of grace, regardless of whether or not they have formal theological training. But if you DON’T understand Calvinism, in at least a rudimentary way, this book is not for you. It will give you a distorted snapshot of how Calvinists practice the Christian life. I’ll have a bit more to say on this under the heading of theological accuracy, but first let’s talk about…

Readability. Again, this depends on how well you understand Calvinism. If you were raised in a church that taught you the Westminster Catechism or if you have studied a proper presentation of Calvinism, then you can ski through this book easily. It might take a little effort, but you can move through it like a cross-country skier on fresh white powder. If you don’t understand Calvinism like a Dutch native, however, then you may find yourself huffing and puffing like a 300 pound man trying to climb the stairs to reach the top of the Eiffel Tower.

The book is readable; however, it is not especially clear. Often the author only hints at how a particular aspect of Calvinism might be applied to daily Christian living. In chapter 9, for instance, the author contrasts Las Vegas and the New Jerusalem promised in scripture. What is the point of this comparison? I’m not sure; it seems to be that Calvinism (which gets you to the New Jerusalem) delivers a kind of hope in life and death (p. 101) that Las Vegas also offers but can never deliver. I think that’s what Mouw is getting at, but his writing never really comes out and says it, nor does he develop the implications of what I think is a pretty interesting image. Most of the chapters are like this; the author seems to nod in a direction, but you’re not really certain if those nods are just facial tics.

In terms of theological accuracy, there is wide variation from chapter to chapter. Sometimes Mouw hits the mark like an expert bow-hunter hits a deer in hunting season; at other times, the author makes road-kill out of clear and simple theological concepts. On the good side, for instance, Mouw describes Total Depravity (the “T” in TULIP which is an acronym for the five points of Calvinism) by drawing on a memory from his childhood (p. 30). He recalls a mean trick he played on another younger, poorer boy in his community, then uses this story to illustrate how, as fallen sinners, we take delight in doing evil for its own sake. He writes, “I try to imagine what was going on in my heart when I performed that absolutely gratuitous bit of evil, and I cannot fathom it.” This struck me deeply because I can look back on my life, and feel deep regret for times that I sinned just for the pleasure of sin. I had no human excuse or provocation; I just acted out of my fallen nature. These are not “serious sins” as the world or the church would look on them, but they point beyond the acts themselves to a sin nature that is deeply twisted—a central tenet of Calvinism. There are other spots like this in the book where Mouw unpacks the personal side of Calvinism in ways that are spiritually convicting, simulating, or awe-inspiring.

But there are many places where the author does Calvinism a deep disservice. He takes the doctrines of grace and extends them not with Scripture but with logic to the point where they are distorted, broken, and dangerous like a rubber band that you stretch until it breaks and snaps you in your right eye. For instance, Calvinists hold that only those whom God has chosen will be saved from God’s eternal punishment in hell. This is one of the most difficult aspect of Calvinism for most people to accept. But this doctrine of “Unconditional Election” (the “U” in Calvinism’s TULIP) is taught repeatedly and clearly in the Bible. Some people try to get around this selectivity by arguing for Universalism, which teaches that God has elected everybody; therefore, everyone will be saved one way or another. Mouw denies holding this (p. 84); yet curiously he talks about two friends—one a Jewish rabbi and the other a woman abused by her “Christian” father (pp. 87-88). Both of these people have pious affections, but each explicitly denies being a Christian. So, by their own admission, they have rejected Jesus Christ, the only Lord and Savior. Does this mean that, if they die in this unbelief, they will not be in heaven? Classic Calvinism, reflecting the teaching of the Bible, says “yes.” But Richard Mouw is not so sure. About his rabbi friend he writes,

I have a spiritual hunch about how things are going to end up for this rabbi. I would not be surprised if, when the final encounter comes with his Maker and he sees the face of Jesus, he will bow in worship, acknowledging that Jesus is the One whom he should have named all along as the Promised One of Israel—and that the Savior will welcome him into the eternal kingdom (p. 87).

So here we have a man who rejects Jesus Christ in this life, yet he gets a second chance after he dies and, on his second chance, shows himself to be elect by accepting the gracious gift of eternal life. What kind of Calvinism is this?! It is one that takes the idea of unconditional election so far that it denies the fourth of the five points of Calvinism—Irresistible Grace (the “I” in TULIP). Irresistible Grace holds that all whom God elected and Jesus died for will, by the regenerating grace of God, turn to embrace Jesus as Savior IN THIS LIFE. Calvinists believe this because the Bible teaches it, but Mouw’s understanding of Calvinism is so flexible that one tenet ends up breaking others. Mouw does not say this explicitly; instead he writes on page 88:

as a Christian who takes the Bible seriously, I do want them to actually call on the name of Jesus (Romans 10:13), to acknowledge that he alone can save them from their sinful state. In the meantime, however, I do live with my hunches about the scope of God’s generosity toward people like them…. I don’t feel I am betraying the Calvinist cause in entertaining these hunches.

See the head-fake? And this is just one theological danger zone in the book; there are others, though I think this is the most egregious. The author has a way of talking about these areas of theological quicksand on the path of Calvinism, but instead of pointing them out, he seems to suggest that you walk toward them and try them out as legitimate branches on the path of truth. Therefore I am very, very hesitant to recommend this book to anybody, even though I did find it challenging and spiritually stimulating in many ways. A believer with some biblical discernment may profit from reading it, but he or she must carefully compare the author’s weighty proposals against the gravity of clear scriptural teaching.

One final thought: you must understand that, in this book, Mouw is not really interested in explaining or defending Calvinism as a theological system. Chapter 3 (pp. 25ff) does give the five points of Calvinism a quick glance, but if you are curious about what Calvinists believe, Mouw admits this is not the book for you (p. 17). Instead, I would recommend Chosen for Life by C. Samuel Storms or Chosen by God by R. C. Sproul. They are both excellent books, presenting the case biblically for truths that so many find hard to accept. The book by Storms admittedly only covers one point of Calvinism (”election”) but it is a good starting point nonetheless.

In 2001 I was pastoring a new little church that was struggling to get off the ground. I spent some time searching the Internet to see what other churches were doing with their websites and one church in particular caught my eye: Mars Hill Church in Seattle, WA.

Mars Hill was founded and pastored by Mark Driscoll. This church got my attention for several reasons. First, it was an urban church with multiple locations. Second, it was a church of young adults pastored by a guy in his early 30’s (in other words, roughly the same age as I was). Third, Driscoll was a Bible expositor, meaning he preached a series of paragraph by paragraph messages through an entire book of the Bible. Although his messages were long and lightly-structured (he seems to be of the “running commentary” style of exposition), they were very, very interesting because he knows how to use interesting images and because he has a very direct, “in your face” style of preaching. I found this to be very refreshing. For these reasons, I’ve kept an eye on Mars Hill over the years.

This book, Confessions of a Reformission Rev, is Mark Driscoll’s account of how he started and built Mars Hill Church in Seattle which, as he tells you, is “one of the nation’s least churched cities” (p. 9). This is Driscoll’s second book; it was released just a few weeks ago. In the interest of full-disclosure, I bought this book with my own money and chose to read and review it becasue I liked it. (I say this because lots of new books are given to people who promise to read and review them. I have no problem with that, as long as the reviewer lets you know about the deal.)

In terms of length, this book runs 190 pages of text and photos. That length fits the topic like a standard upright piano fits the living room of a beginning piano teacher. It is just the right length to do the job.

Driscoll states his purpose for writing this book on page 12 when he writes, “My hope is that our hardships and lessons will help to serve others who are undertaking similar missions and inspire the planting and renewing of many churches to reach emerging cultures.” Put simply, this book is intended to inform you about what Driscoll has learned from starting and leading Mars Hill and to persuade you to have a missional focus in your church or church plant. Although there is not much in this book that is different from what you read in other books on church planting, I do think this book is a road that leads you somewhere good. The main lesson that Confessions explicitly teaches is that Christians and their churches must realize that we live in a secular culture; therefore we must think and act like a missionary to a foreign culture would. This is not exactly groundbreaking, though it does need to be emphasized and Driscoll does a good job spelling out what you have to do be an effective missionary to America on pages 15-16.

The implicit message of this book—and the one I found most encouraging—is that you can and should reach your culture through expository preaching that is biblically faithful and hits hard at everyday life. Most church growth “experts” (including many pastors) say that you cannot build a large church and be a book-by-book Bible expositor. Also, most Bible expositors seem to feel that this culture will not sit still for a lengthy exposition of the Scriptures. Driscoll demonstrates that both of these premises are as false as your grandmother’s dentures. This culture needs God’s Word; what it doesn’t need is a boring lecture. Expository preaching, when done right, is more hard hitting and life-changing than all the topical, feel good sermonettes that one finds in too many churches. The only problem with expository preaching is that most practitioners of it don’t know how to do it right.

Furthermore, in a liberal, secular city like Seattle, you might expect a large church to step lightly around the issues of women in church leadership, homosexuality, biblical authority, the exclusivity of Jesus, and other theological land mines. Church growth experts are constantly telling us to avoid these at all costs, if you want your church to grow. Driscoll, by contrast, seeks out these land mines and deliberately jumps up and down on them, demonstrating that God’s power is greater than the tips and techniques we’re told are necessary for building a big church in this culture.

You’ve probably already guessed that the audience for this book is not the average automatic transmission, Camry-driving Christian. You have guessed correctly; this book is intended for those who drive the bus that is the church. It is for elders, pastors, church planters, and church plant team members. If that is you, then reading this book might teach you some things to avoid; it might teach you some truths you didn’t already know. Then again, it might not teach you anything since most of its lessons appear in other books of this type. But this book will fire you up and stir up your longing to see God work in your culture like he’s working in Seattle.

Although this book is intended for church leaders, it is very readable. Any Christian could easily read this book and profit from it. Especially when you get past the first chapter (which is confusingly called chapter zero) you will find yourself racing along through page after page like Picabo Street on a bunny hill. There are two things that make this book very readable. First, chapters one through seven tell us a story, the story of Mars Hill church at every life stage. For instance, chapter one covers Mars Hill from 0-45 in worship attendance. Chapter two tells us what happened when Mars Hill had 45-75 people. Each chapter continues the story from stage to stage until you reach the current stage (4,000-10,000 attenders) in chapter 7. The story of Mars Hill is interesting and instructive on its own merits, so the narrative itself makes for compelling reading.

The second thing that makes this book so readable is Driscoll’s writing style. Like his preaching, he shoots straight with no warning shots. He also has a sarcastic sense of humor that sprinkles each page like acid rain on a Seattle picnic. For instance, in the preceding paragraph, I told you that each chapter from one to seven covers a life-stage of Mars Hill (0-45, and so on). Each of these chapters has a tantalizingly witty title. Chapter one is titled, “Jesus, Our Offering was $137 and I Want to Use It to Buy Bullets.” Chapter four is titled, “Jesus, Could You Please Rapture the Charismaniac Lady Who Brings Her Tambourine to Church?” Driscoll’s sense of humor makes the already engaging story that much more enjoyable.

What about the theological accuracy of this book? Your mileage may vary here. Driscoll has concocted his own blend of theology and church practice. Although his theology is orthodox, just about everyone I can think of will find something distasteful in at least one sip of his homebrew. Driscoll describes himself as an “intense biblical literalist” (p. 66) and he believes and practices preaching paragraph by paragraph, book by book through the Bible (p. 95). He is very strong and biblically straight on the priority of the family in Christianity (pp. 66-67). These are all good things. I also know that he is a Calvinist in his doctrine, though I think I learned this more from listening to his preaching than reading this book. He also distances himself from the false doctrine of the “emergent” church (pp. 21-23), which is theological liberalism remixed for a postmodern age. On these points, and on his insistence that we be missional, I think Driscoll hits the bulls-eye.

That said, there are things that will make many cringe, and may cause others to stumble. Driscoll openly admits to using profanity (p. 47), though he may have repented of that recently. He writes about receiving direct, extra-biblical revelation from God (pp. 74-75). Nevertheless, he calls these experiences “weird” (p. 39) so both cessationists and continuationists will scratch their heads at various points in the book.

Dispensationalists will also wonder if they’ve been dissed (pp. 49-50) and fundamentalists will know that they have been (pp. 15-16, 49, 121, and others). Seminary training seems to be downplayed early in the book (pp. 17-18), though later Driscoll admits that he is currently finishing a seminary degree (p. 178). If your understanding of church government is non-elder led, a challenging section awaits you (pp.103-110). And if you think that the music in the church should be limited to your tastes, don’t even bother picking this book up.

My knocks against the book are minor and somewhat technical. The first has to do with “Chapter Zero: Ten Curious Questions.” The information in this chapter is good, but it gives the point of the book away. I think this chapter could be eliminated completely; or if it did appear in the book, it would be better off at the end of the book. Here’s why: When you sit down to read the story of the Good Samaritan, Jesus doesn’t tell you right off the bat what the story is going to teach you. He lets the story unfold so that at the end, he can ask you a question, then tell you to “go and do likewise.” This is the classic inductive form—hold off from giving away the point or points of your teaching until the end. But Driscoll tells you in one chapter, right at the beginning, everything he wants you to learn from the story that unfolds in the chapters that follow. And this chapter zero is not nearly as interesting as the story chapters that follow. So, it is my belief that folding the information in chapter zero into the narrative of chapters one through seven or just moving chapter zero to the end would make for a stronger book.

Furthermore, chapter zero contains at least one significant contradiction. On page 24 Driscoll writes that contemporary, seeker-oriented church “preaches a gospel of fulfillment…. In this framework, I do not exist for God but rather God exists for me…. The therapeutic gospel is a false gospel and an enemy of mission for many reasons.” I agree. But two pages later he writes that any antagonism between contemporary, seeker-oriented churches and “missional churches” like his “is in large part unnecessary, because they are working for the same goal–the reaching of lost people for Jesus–but simply using different methods, methods that are complimentary, not contradictory” (p. 26). This is a contradiction; the “false gospel” of the contemporary church is not just a “different method.” I agree that many contemporary church leaders are sometimes too harshly criticized, but that doesn’t mean that the criticisms of them are not valid. On his blog, Driscoll has good things to say about Robert Schuller, who is clearly a false teacher if our standard is the Bible.

These are important issues, but they are not central to this book. The central message of this book is one that many pastors, church planters and other church leaders will find encouraging and helpful. I recommend it to discerning readers.

When we’re talking about biblical truth, accuracy in interpretation is unquestionably the most important consideration. This is as true for books as it is for sermons. We expect our pastor to be someone who “correctly handles the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15); likewise, we must hold any author who claims to write from a Christian perspective to the same standard.

Yet most of what is published as Christian literature fails the test of biblical accuracy. The Bible tells us that “many false prophets have gone out into the world” (1 John 4:1) and they all seem to own a printing press. As I write about books I have read, I will give careful attention to their biblical accuracy. I will describe each book by answering this metaphorical question:

Is this book a bulls-eye, a decent shot that hit the target somewhere, or a wild arrow shot into the dark? There are three kinds of archers: those who hit the bulls-eye consistently, those who can usually hit the target but seldom the bulls-eye, and those who couldn’t hit any part of a Target store, even if they were standing right in front of it. I’m sure that latter designation fits me because I haven’t touched a bow and arrow since I was a kid at summer camp and I was no good at it then. The same is true with authors. Some are so theologically accurate that you can’t fault their work at all. These are extremely rare, however. Other authors do a generally good job and their work can be commended and safely recommended for any Christian to read. The final type of author is so theologically reckless that his work is liable to hurt someone’s faith if they read it uncritically. You see, then, that this is a double metaphor; it describes the author as an archer and his book as an arrow. I will let you know, after testing the book by Scripture, whether I think a book is on target or bound to hurt people.

Proverbs 26:10 says, “Like an archer who wounds at random is he who hires a fool or any passer-by.” This is the theme verse of many “Christian” publishing houses. They do not seem to test the author or his work for biblical accuracy. Instead, they choose anyone with a following large enough to sell books. Perhaps this is for the best. If publishing companies were the arbitrators of truth, some necessary and helpful books would not be published simply because the editor or publisher is deficient in the area of theology that book touches on. Therefore, discerning believers need to evaluate what they read in light of the teaching of Scripture and then either recommend or warn believers about the book in question. I will try to do that in my book reviews and invite your comments and questions.

This is the final entry that describes the methodology I’ll use in my book reviews. I will use these five categories to evaluate any of the books I review.