Just read this. Did you catch The Question? "What is the Church?" People my age and younger are asking this question, and it won't go away. It seems abstract, but it's not. As I have written probably a thousand times, I'll do it again: People need to know what God said in the places closest to their lives in order to be Christians. This is why infallibility MUST be part of the discussion. When God speaks, He speaks without error. A sectarian is nothing more and nothing less than a person who believes that God is speaking inerrantly to him. And it's a reasonable choice; you need infallibility somewhere. But the Noltie Conundrum comes to cast more than a reasonable doubt on any particular view I may be holding, by taking the bad faith, "Well, he disagrees because he's stupid, sinful, etc." out of the equation. It works because it's a strictly theological problem. Ask it this way: "What does it say about God that the Holy Spirit is speaking in the Scriptures in all these obviously contradictory ways?"
Let it sit there.
At this point, people say, "We're united in the essentials of faith." Oh, really? Which ones? I dare you to attempt a baptism on an infant member of Mark Dever's church. If people can't even agree on what a sacrament is and does, and who is worthy to receive it, spare me the unity talk. I'm sure Mark Dever believes the perspicuous Scriptures are decidedly clear on that point, too. We can't even use the Creed in his case, because he doesn't believe "I confess one baptism for the forgiveness of sins." (Neither do most "historic" Presbyterians, mind you.) Bonus fun: I dare you to attempt to receive Communion in an LCMS church, if you believe so essentially in common! Ha!
Here's the funny part: I haven't even mentioned the Catholic Church yet. That's all well and good. For your own good, you need to feel the pain of the Conundrum as a Protestant before you do anything else. It had to be that way for me. I did not want to accuse myself of being charmed by incense or funny hats for the rest of my life.
I could have just figured I was smarter than all of you at the Presbyterian seminary there, that my understanding of the text was good enough to settle it. I'm smarter than most of you. But not all. And so began a search for what we know, and how we know it.
Oh, man.
I've really only learned 2 things in my whole life about God: God is Love, and God is faithful. You tell me: What is faithful and loving about a God who allowed a false gospel to envelop the world for a thousand years, give or take? Does that sound like our Father, our Lord, or the Spirit who will guide us into all truth? That is--with a few variations--exactly what story the Reformation commits one to. Post-Incarnation, mind you. Seriously, now, let that sit.
You go on and chatter about your appreciation for the great Catholics of the past; go ahead. If you are a child of the Reformation though, you're lying to yourself. All the obvious and manifest good must be dismissed as idolatry. If you're right, St. Augustine was an idolater, who believed in magic and man-pleasing. St. Francis of Assisi, same thing, only worse.
But firstly, I realized I could only believe this by begging the question. I had to assume that Calvin, Luther, Zwingli, Bucer, or whomever was right, and therefore, so was I. But there was a time when they were not; what did God do then? How was his faithfulness expressed?
"...and upon this rock, I will build my Church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it." OK, Lord. Where is it?
Trace it forward. You'll be cheering most of the way, because a good Protestant cheers the early Christology, at the very least. But again, you're cheering for idolaters. Mariology, submission to the pope, and transubstantiation were not invented last week. In fact, these "heroes" believed all that stuff. If I've previously stopped begging the question, that is, at least reserving judgment about what orthodoxy is until I hit the Reformation, I don't say it like that. But even failing in that task, it invites you to ask yourself, "Am I sure that these people who preserved what I acknowledge to be part of the gospel, were nonetheless heretics and idolaters?" By what means do I make the judgment? Am I on the fence about St. Lawrence's salvation, because he obviously didn't make the proper (Reformed) distinction between sign and reality in the Supper? You'll have to forgive me, but that's absurd. Tell you what: I want to find out what he's having--what he's believing--and why, and I want it, too.
And that, my friends, is the heart of it. Love for Christ--deep, fiery, supernatural love--can't be faked. Idolaters can't mimic it; man-pleasers don't have it. Liars and apostates don't die for Jesus. A false gospel doesn't make heroes. A false Church doesn't have these true sons and daughters.
Let it sit there.
At this point, people say, "We're united in the essentials of faith." Oh, really? Which ones? I dare you to attempt a baptism on an infant member of Mark Dever's church. If people can't even agree on what a sacrament is and does, and who is worthy to receive it, spare me the unity talk. I'm sure Mark Dever believes the perspicuous Scriptures are decidedly clear on that point, too. We can't even use the Creed in his case, because he doesn't believe "I confess one baptism for the forgiveness of sins." (Neither do most "historic" Presbyterians, mind you.) Bonus fun: I dare you to attempt to receive Communion in an LCMS church, if you believe so essentially in common! Ha!
Here's the funny part: I haven't even mentioned the Catholic Church yet. That's all well and good. For your own good, you need to feel the pain of the Conundrum as a Protestant before you do anything else. It had to be that way for me. I did not want to accuse myself of being charmed by incense or funny hats for the rest of my life.
I could have just figured I was smarter than all of you at the Presbyterian seminary there, that my understanding of the text was good enough to settle it. I'm smarter than most of you. But not all. And so began a search for what we know, and how we know it.
Oh, man.
I've really only learned 2 things in my whole life about God: God is Love, and God is faithful. You tell me: What is faithful and loving about a God who allowed a false gospel to envelop the world for a thousand years, give or take? Does that sound like our Father, our Lord, or the Spirit who will guide us into all truth? That is--with a few variations--exactly what story the Reformation commits one to. Post-Incarnation, mind you. Seriously, now, let that sit.
You go on and chatter about your appreciation for the great Catholics of the past; go ahead. If you are a child of the Reformation though, you're lying to yourself. All the obvious and manifest good must be dismissed as idolatry. If you're right, St. Augustine was an idolater, who believed in magic and man-pleasing. St. Francis of Assisi, same thing, only worse.
But firstly, I realized I could only believe this by begging the question. I had to assume that Calvin, Luther, Zwingli, Bucer, or whomever was right, and therefore, so was I. But there was a time when they were not; what did God do then? How was his faithfulness expressed?
"...and upon this rock, I will build my Church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it." OK, Lord. Where is it?
Trace it forward. You'll be cheering most of the way, because a good Protestant cheers the early Christology, at the very least. But again, you're cheering for idolaters. Mariology, submission to the pope, and transubstantiation were not invented last week. In fact, these "heroes" believed all that stuff. If I've previously stopped begging the question, that is, at least reserving judgment about what orthodoxy is until I hit the Reformation, I don't say it like that. But even failing in that task, it invites you to ask yourself, "Am I sure that these people who preserved what I acknowledge to be part of the gospel, were nonetheless heretics and idolaters?" By what means do I make the judgment? Am I on the fence about St. Lawrence's salvation, because he obviously didn't make the proper (Reformed) distinction between sign and reality in the Supper? You'll have to forgive me, but that's absurd. Tell you what: I want to find out what he's having--what he's believing--and why, and I want it, too.
And that, my friends, is the heart of it. Love for Christ--deep, fiery, supernatural love--can't be faked. Idolaters can't mimic it; man-pleasers don't have it. Liars and apostates don't die for Jesus. A false gospel doesn't make heroes. A false Church doesn't have these true sons and daughters.
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