Radical or Ordinary?

In October 2014 Christianity Today reviewed a book called Ordinary by Reformed theologian Michael Horton, whom I first encountered through the weekly White Horse Inn radio program. I initially liked listening to Horton and his friends because their panel discussion format stood out from a lot of interview-based shows, but eventually I had to stop because the lively group discussions too often took an angry tone that tended to move toward ranting. Horton and his co-hosts were determined to identify and counter non-Reformed versions of Christianity, and it was just too much for this Wesleyan-Arminian United Methodist to take.

So when Horton decided to take on David Platt's best-selling book Radical, I didn't rush out to buy a copy. Not that I am a huge fan of Platt's book. In fact, I saw in Radical way too much earnestness about changing the world. That desire of "I must do something" can be an untamed beast that rages in the soul of do-gooders, ready to be unleashed on anyone identified as a target -- usually someone considered poor, lost, or different. This is something I saw first-hand in certain missionary colleagues who made their ministry more about what they were doing (or giving up) than about following Jesus. Also, Radical is really not that radical; it is not actually calling Christians to re-evaluate the consumerism that pollutes most versions of Christianity in the United States. Take the subtitle: Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream. This doesn't call into question the assumption that my faith is "mine" to spend as I like. Platt's not challenging the underlying consumerist, individualistic perspective of evangelical Christianity; he just wants you (singular pronoun, not plural) to "spend" your faith doing things that will change the world. As much as Horton's tone makes me cringe, I recognize that Ordinary offers a needed corrective, warning the church against a consumerist version of works righteousness on steroids.

This is an old debate, one that also tore at the fabric of early Methodism as it was getting started in the middle of the 18th century. John Wesley, not unlike Platt, wanted to urge the people called Methodists to do all the good they could, and he formalized the importance of service and acts of mercy in the second of his Three Rules, which the United Methodist Church still subscribes to. This was a clear call against the tendencies of some European pietists like Philip Henry Molther, who said that people should not do anything to grow closer to God. This emphasis on "quietism" taught that one could only wait for God to show up and be revealed -- there was nothing you could do in your own power to experience God in a deeper way. Wesley was concerned that this waiting around would encourage antinomianism  and that people wouldn't be concerned about what they did in this life. Wesley was so worried that quietism might lead to spiritual lethargy (or outright sinfulness) that he harshly denounced it in his Rules:

...trampling under foot that enthusiastic doctrine that "we are not to do good unless our hearts be free to it."

Wesley said we couldn't simply wait around for God. He believed that God is always present and that there are "means of grace" available to help us experience God more deeply. Those means are listed in his third rule and they include things we would expect any spiritual leader to endorse: prayer, reading scripture, public worship, and the sacraments of baptism and Communion. Those from the Reformed camp accused Wesley of work righteousness because he urged the Methodists that they had to do something to grow in faith. I wouldn't be surprised if Horton would make the same argument against Wesley today. But Wesley never wavered from teaching that faith is a gift received from God; his theology centers around the belief that our worship and our works are a response to God's gift of grace. This response is by definition a free offering of love -- it is not a currency to spend.

The debate about how much work one has to do to find faith in God goes to the heart of what it means to live a Christian life. It's why Martin Luther wrestled to understand the epistle of James. Trying to find that balance between waiting for God and doing good things is part of the daily pilgrimage of discipleship. These two books come from two different perspectives, staking out extreme claims on either side. You could read both of them and then try to find a middle ground that works for you. Or you could just start with Wesley and his Three Rules. He already wrestled with the relationship between faith and works, and his balanced perspective can help the rest of us who come after him.