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Book Review Posts

• September 19, 2010 by Gerald Hiestand

  William Young’s, The Shack: A Review

  William Young’s The Shack, has only just now begun to fall of the New York Time’s best seller’s list. The book has been a remarkable sensation, and while the sensation has begun to wear off, it remains an influential and popular book. I don’t read a lot of fiction (less than I’d like, to be sure), but so many people in my church were reading the book, that I made it a priority to check it out. What follows are my thoughts about the book, and how pastors should respond to it.

  The story opens with the abduction and brutal murder of “Mac’s” seven year old daughter. Four years later, Mac is invited by God to join him at the shack where his daughter’s murder was discovered. Mac accepts the invitation, and the remainder of the book is Mac’s experience with God at the shack. The book is essentially Young’s theodicy wrapped in a narrative. Young (consciously or not) follows Dostoevsky in tackling perhaps one of the greatest questions in theodicy—the suffering of children.

  Young’s book has not been without controversy. Perhaps most immediately jarring is his portrayal of God the Father as a large African American woman, and the Holy Spirit as an ethereal and diminutive Asian woman. (Jesus, mercifully, remains a Jewish handyman.) I’ve already made comments elsewhere about gender and the nature of God, so I’ll not belabor that point here.

  Young’s decision to portray God in mostly feminine categories has relevance to a wider “anti-power” motif woven throughout the book. Young, in casting God in female terms, distances God from a sense of tyranny and dominance—a sense more often associated with males than females. Young’s agenda is not unique. Those toward the theological left tend to be suspicious of power, viewing it as oppressive and brutalizing. The emergence of egalitarianism within the church and home, and the movement toward decentralized church leadership structures are symptomatic of this shift. Hierarchy, we are often told, leads to oppression. At one point, Mac asks God which of the three members of the Trinity is in charge of the others. The three are aghast at the thought. “What you are seeing here,” the Holy Spirit informs him, “is a relationship without any overlay of power….Authority, as you usually think of it, is merely the excuse the strong uses to make others conform to what they want.” Power, Young argues at various points, is inherently corrupting and oppressive.

  The net result is a God who rejects—indeed is repulsed by—the use of power. (In one scene God picks up a gun between two fingers, holding it at arms lengths as though it were a dead mouse). Young’s God never coerces, never forces; He believes the best in everyone, is enduringly patient, and invincibly good-natured. For Young, love cannot be love if it is not freely offered and freely received. Power equals dominance, and if God dominates us he cannot love us, nor can we freely love him.

  There are two fundamental difficulties I have with Young’s “anti-power” motif. First, Young’s portrayal of God is out of step with much of the way God is portrayed in Scripture. It’s difficult to square Young’s pacifistic Trinitarian portrayal with the God of Genesis 6, the Christ of Revelation 19, and the Holy Spirit of Acts 5. And it’s at this point that Young’s theodicy falls short. The Scripture doesn’t allow us to distance God from violence and coercion. The deeper question of theodicy is not simply how a good God can allow death and destruction, but how a good God can cause death and destruction. Young’s book assumes the happiness of humanity is the highest good. The Bible does not affirm this. Simply put, God is not “for” everyone to the same degree, or in the same way. (Aquinas called this the “principle of predilection—the idea that “no created being would be better than another unless it were loved more by God.”) Those committed to the biblical narrative must wrestle with the (unsettling) reality of a God who does not love everyone equally, and who has personally brought about the death of women and children. On this question, Young’s book is silent.

  Secondly, Young’s conflation of power and abuse is not accurate. The former does not automatically equate to the latter. The answer to the abuse of power is not the elimination of power, but rather the proper use of power. God is unquestionably a God of power. Young would agree with this, I’m sure, but Young seems to chafe against any idea that God would actually use his power to bring about his ends. But God does, and often. Further, the love of God is only as meaningful as the power that animates it. A God neutered of power is a God who lacks the capacity to love. Or again, the warmth of God’s imminence is only as meaningful as the height of his transcendence. Young’s portrayal of God, unlike the God of the whirlwind, lacks any sense of transcendence.

  Young comes closest to a biblical theodicy toward the end of the book. In a scene reminiscent of Job, Mac is offered the chance to sit as judge over both God and the world. With appropriate terror, Mac realizes just how little qualified he is to take God’s place as sovereign judge. This is perhaps the strongest part of Young’s book, but unfortunately, it remains largely out of step with much that is written elsewhere. The difference between the theodicy of Job and the theodicy found in Young is telling. Job comes to peace in the midst of his pain when he finally submits to God’s sovereign right to act as God in whatever way he deems, even if that means the destruction of Job’s livelihood and family. Conversely, Mac comes to peace when he realizes that God really is a nice guy after all, and that all that stuff about him being angry and wrathful was a gross mischaracterization. The latter is perhaps the quickest and most palatable pathway to peace; but in the end, it sugarcoats the harder issues and lacks a true biblical foundation.

  So how should we as pastors respond to this book? It’s obvious Young’s book has struck a chord with the culture at large, and the evangelical culture not least. It’s clear the people in our churches crave an immanent God—one who understands our needs, our weaknesses, and who is able to identify with us in our fragile human existence. And indeed the Word Incarnate is the Father’s way of whispering tenderly in our ear. In Christ, the transcendent God draws near to us in flesh and bone. He walks our paths and feels our pain. The desire for a God of compassion and tenderness is legitimate, and we do well to ask why such a deficit might exist in our churches. Have we failed to communicate properly the deep love that God has for his children? Perhaps. But if we have, Young’s book is not the best corrective. Young, in an attempt to wipe the blood off of God’s hands, ends up diminishing the transcendence and power of God. The best way to correct an unbalanced view of God is not by introducing an opposing unbalanced view of God.

  Yet at the same time, we need to be sensitive to the ways in which God is working in the lives of those who have profited by reading Young’s book. I spoke with a man at my church whose view of God was positively corrected by reading The Shack. Prior to reading the book, the man had viewed God as a stern and uncompromising task-master—a God impossible to please, a God who told you he loved you with a scowl on his face. For this man, Young’s over-compensated portrayal of God’s imminence brought a necessary corrective, allowing him to believe in a God who cared about the needs of his children, and whose love was genuine. God, in his sovereign mercy, often chooses to use less than ideal means (such as myself!) to communicate his truth. So there’s wisdom in being sensitive and tactful in our criticism when talking to those who have read the book with profit. God may have used the unbalanced portrayal found in Young’s book to bring about a balanced portrayal in the life of those who read it. The net effect is a balanced view of God that does not truly reflect Young’s unbalanced portrayal. If we are not tactful in our criticism, we can be misunderstood as critiquing this new-found view of God, rather than critiquing Young’s unbalanced portrayal. Without endorsing the book, perhaps it is best in such instances to simply affirm the positive ways in which God has used it, while gently pointing out its deficits.

  At the end of the day, this is not a book I will recommend. For those who need a theodicy wrapped in a narrative, a work such as Lewis’ Till We Have Faces is the better, even if more difficult, way forward.

  Categories: Book Review

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• December 18, 2009 by Gerald Hiestand

  Thielicke on the (Ecclesial) Theologian

  “Insofar as we are determined to be true theologians, we think within the community of God’s people, and for that community, and in the name of that community; – how shall I say? – we think as a part of the community itself.”

  and again,

  “I should like to add to all this that the church has the prior right to question us, even if it does not and cannot understand the details of our work; for we are pursing our theological study in its very midst as sure as we are members of that church. Therefore these questions, even if they lack in detail some of the definite theological concerns that we entertain, may be highly relevant and constitute a fire through which we must always march.”

  A Little Exercise for Young Theologians, pp. 4-5 and 25-26.

  Categories: Book Review | Ecclesial Theology

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• October 31, 2009 by Gerald Hiestand

  Raising Purity Book Give-Away

  I’m pleased to announce the re-release of my book Raising Purity: Helping Parents Understand the Bible’s Perspective on Sex, Dating, and Relationships. This is a revised and expanded version of the original, and, I think, is significantly improved in a few key areas. To give you a sense of what the book is about, here’s the copy from the back cover:

  Do they know? Do you? Many young people today are confused about the Bible’s perspective on sex, dating and relationships. Should they give dating a chance or kiss it goodbye? What exactly is sexual purity, and how far is too far, anyway? Perhaps our children don’t know the answers to these questions because we as parents are uncertain ourselves.

  In this ground-breaking book, Gerald Hiestand provides objective, biblical answers to these vital questions, and unfolds a paradigm-shifting view of relationships and purity that challenges the basic assumptions of our Christian sub-culture. Touching on a wide range of subjects, Raising Purity is sure to help parents and children think clearly, biblically and practically about the God-ordained purpose of human sexuality.

  If you’re a parent or youth pastor, this book is for you. I’m convinced our children will not have clarity on this issue until we as parents and pastors have clarity on this issue. And given the statistics, I think it’s pretty clear we lack clarity.

  This topic is not necessarily my hot button. As a pastor striving to write robust eccleisal theology, a book on dating seems a bit off topic. But it’s precisely at this point that the whole “social location” thing kicks in. Early on in my ministry I did some time as a youth pastor and had to address the age old question “How far is too far?” It’s not a question most serious theologians in the academy have to deal with, but it’s a very live question for pastors. As I grappled with the issue and read the popular literature, I became increasingly convinced that most of our collective wisdom on this subject is simply wrong. We just haven’t grasped the Bible’s central message on purity. So I did some thinking on the issue and wrote a book. At the risk of sounding like a hubritic, I’m certain I’ve got some new things to say about purity, dating, and relationships – things that aren’t being said elsewhere, in quite this way. In writing the book, I’ve tried to be richly theological and eminently practical. I’ve field tested this at my home church with both parents and singles and the response has been overwhelmingly positive.

  For those interested, here are a few links you might find useful.

  • Download the First Two Chapters
  • Buy the Book
  • View the Recommendations
  • View Images

  Free Books
  And now about that “free book” thing. . . since I’m self-publishing, I could use a little help with the marketing. So here’s my, “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine” proposal: I’ll send a free copy of the book to the first twenty people who send me an e-mail at geraldhiestand[at]calvarymemorial.com (include your address). But here’s the catch. You have to be a regular blogger (not a blogger whose last post was May 1, 2009), and you have to be willing to write a short review (doesn’t have to be a positive review) by Dec 31, 20011, linking back to raisingpurity.com.

  I truly believe this is an important book for the church today – a life-changing book. If you’re a parent or a pastor, I hope you’ll read it. If you have read it, and have any thoughts, feel free to leave a comment. I welcome your thoughts.

  Categories: Book Review

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• October 4, 2009 by Gerald Hiestand

  Who Cares What Calvin Thought? (The Church, That’s Who)

  Despite their comments earlier in the book, Bradley and Muller acknowledge the difficulty of achieving total objectivity in historical studies, and indeed, affirm the importance of having a sense of involvement in and with the events of history. “Objectivity in historical studies does not, and cannot, exist if it is defined as an absence of involvement with or opinion about the materials.”

  This is more reasonable, even  if out of step with their earlier comments. But what the right hand gives, the left hand takes away. Bradley and Muller go on to state that a historian should not render judgment on the matter studied. “As a historian, one makes no judgment about the rightness or wrongness of the person’s teaching on an absolute scale. . . the student should not ask whether or not Arminius is ultimately doctrinal right or wrong.” And again, “One’s own writing should not register one’s own theological opinion, pro or con.”

  Here I must voice strong disagreement. The entire point of historical studies as done by Christian theologians and historians is precisely to render theological judgment in service to the Church. The conscious divorce between systematic theology and historical studies is the curse of academic theology. To be sure, historians—christian or non—must be careful to do the hard work of finding out what was really going on in the original context; we can’t appropriate what we haven’t accurately understood. But to suggest that Christian historians shouldn’t appropriate the theological reflection of our tradition is significantly unhelpful.

  I am reminded here of a recent exchange in JETS between two Calvin scholars on the role of “union with Christ” in Calvin’s soteriology. Thomas Wenger argues for a more traditional, forensic reading of Calvin and accuses Marcus Johnson of allowing his theological agenda to carry undue weight. Wegner writes, “It seems that Johnson has a vested interest to ground his existing theological views in Calvin, and in then grounding Calvin in Paul. . . My arguments have been decidedly historical, and in the original article I do not make a single theological claim.”

  Pause here. What was the point of Wegner’s article then? With all due respect to Dr. Wegner (who is a pastor, ironically),  I don’t really care what Calvin thought about anything unless it can be demonstrated that Calvin’s thought has relevance to the Church as she exists today. Wegner’s article is excellent. Indeed I think his read on Calvin is more accurate than Johnson’s  (and I even agree theologically with Johnson!). But the superiority of Wegner’s article is not because he refuses to render theological judgment. If anything, this is a significant weakness of the article. Who is he writing this for, anyway? Apparently not the church, whose very life-blood runs red with theological judgments.

  Johnson has not misread Calvin because Johnson has a vested interest in the subject matter. No doubt Wegner has a vested interest as well. No. Johnson has misread Calvin because he misread Calvin.

  Bradley and Muller are correct. “It is…exceedingly unlikely that badly done history can be the basis of well-done theology.” Agreed. But  “well-done theology” is the ultimate telos of good history. Historical analysis that doesn’t terminate in theological assertions and a prophetic call to mission is like a “house” with no framing and only a foundation. Good as far as it goes, but useless in and of itself.

  Categories: Academic Theology | Book Review | Church History | Ecclesial Theology

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• September 30, 2009 by Gerald Hiestand

  The Christian Historian as Christian or Scientist? Bradley and Muller on Historical Method

  In their book, Introduction to Church History, Bradley and Muller argue for a form of methodological agnosticism regarding historical method. For Bradley and Muller, failure to suspend one’s Christian commitments too easily leads to a tainted reading of the data. Thus the “scientific investigation” done by Christian scholars in the seminaries should not be substantively different than the historical method done by secular scholars in the universities.

  To make their point, Bradley and Muller point to Catholic historical reflection prior to the mid-eighteenth century, noting that “it was almost invariably written from a confessional viewpoint and it was anything but detached. . . . The theological assumption that links authority with antiquity has thus had a longstanding, deleterious effect on scientific investigation.”

  In short, because Catholic theologians were committed to a Roman notion of continuity between the past and the present, they were unable to critically engage with the primary source material. “The entire view point was dominated by the concepts of a controlling providence and the unanimity of the tradition, granting the normative character of tradition for the contemporary expression of the church.”

  For Bradley and Muller, the Protestant historical method fared little better. While the Protestant Reformation introduced a more critical historical method, “this reorientation was laden with its own problems. The principle of Sola Scriptura profoundly influenced the Reformers’ understanding of church history as well as theology.” Bradley and Muller go on to observe that the Reformers were less interested in establishing continuity with the past, and tended to “view the period of church history from St. Augustine, or at least from the thirteenth-century dawn of scholasticism, to the sixteenth century, in terms of apostasy.” Thus, “Church historians throughout the sixteenth and most of the seventeenth century. . . viewed the church’s past in terms of either orthodoxy or heresy.” In other words, church historians ran into problems because they viewed church history as church historians, rather than as secular historians.

  The main difficulty with Bradley and Muller’s central point here is that they seem to be assuming the historian can approach the text from a epistemologically neutral perspective. Pointing toward the Pietist historian Gottfried Arnold as an example of a more appropriate critical method, Bradley and Muller observe that Arnold was unencumbered by any commitment to orthodoxy or continuity.  “Since the heart of religion for Arnold was subjective, experimental piety rather than strict orthodoxy, he strove for a fair presentation of the religious motives of various heretics and schismatics.” Well and good. No need to be harder on the heretics than necessary. But Bradley and Muller immediately go on to observe, “The corollary of this generosity, however, was that Arnold frequently treated the orthodox with undue severity.” Exactly.

  To be sure, Bradley and Muller don’t view Arnold as a model historian. “Arnold . . . never really grasped the need for an objective handling of the original sources. But [his] new approach to the past freed [him] from arriving at a predetermined, predictable conclusion.”

  No it didn’t. Arnold found what he was looking for. The simple rub is that we all tend to find what we are looking for. Orthodox theologians looked for unity and found it. Arnold looked for disunity and found it. This isn’t to say that we can’t achieve a functional level of objectivity, but it is to say that we don’t come to the data as disinterested observers. In as much as Bradley and Muller are arguing for accuracy in historical studies, I agree. Augustine didn’t affirm double imputation and we shouldn’t try to pretend he did. But Bradley and Muller at times push beyond this when they imply that the Christian scholar should not approach the data as a Christian.

  When I read  St. Paul, or the Fathers, or Thomas, etc., I do so as both a Christian and a pastor. And (even more scandalously!) I have an ecclessial agenda that consciously drives my investigation and analysis. I read Augustine not just to know what Augustine believed, but to know what the church should believe, and to know what I should preach to my people.  I very much am looking for unity and continuity from the apostolic age to the present. Sometimes I find it; sometimes I don’t. But there’s no point in pretending that’s not what I’m doing. And indeed, I don’t know what else a Christian historian should be doing.

  The key to being objective is not to set aside one’s presuppositions and agendas, but to openly and consciously acknowledge them. If both myself and my readers know I am approaching a given subject with certain stated theological commitments and agendas, both myself and my readers are better able to judge the accuracy of my conclusions.  But the historian (secular or ecclesial) who attempts to bury his agenda beneath a veneer of objectivity, tends to leak out his (a)theological commitments in less obvious, and, for that reason,  often more malignant, ways.

  Categories: Book Review | Historical Method

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• September 3, 2009 by Gerald Hiestand

  Bray on the Pastor-Theologian

  In a response to Tom Wright’s book on justification, Gerald Bray chastises Wright for producing a book that has “let us down badly” and is “full of digressions, personal anecdotes which appear to have no purpose other than to win sympathy for the author, and random attacks against unnamed people who are supposed to be typical of popular modern Evangelicals.” In short, Bray didn’t care for the book.

  Aside from the caustic tone of the review (and to be fair, Wright’s tone wasn’t always particularly charitable in his book), and a few mischaracterizations of Wright’s position (contra Bray, Wright doesn’t see Christ as a “plan B” after Israel’s failure), I agreed with much of what Bray wrote.

  However, I didn’t find myself in much agreement with Bray’s concluding comments.

  If anything is clear from Bishop Wright’s book, it is that it is impossible to serve two masters at the same time. Either one is a diocesan bishop or one is a serious scholar—having a day job in Auckland Castle and pottering around with scholarship in one’s spare time is not a viable option in today’s world. Bishop Wright pleads lack of time for what even he recognizes is the inadequacy of his response to Mr. Piper, but if that is so, he needs to reconsider his priorities. There is no shame in giving up scholarship, or in resigning a bishopric, when the pressures become too great, but doing a half-baked job in one is bound to lead to the suspicion that one is doing an equally half-baked job in the other, and that the long-suffering recipients of such treatment are ending up with the worst of both worlds….Let us hope and pray that he will see this for himself and decide whether he wants to be a bishop or a scholar—but not both. We would all be better off if he has the courage to take the right decision and choose one or the other, but best of all, he himself would be a happier and more productive man for it, and it is for him that our primary concern at this point must surely be (Churchman, 104).

  Hmmm. Does Bray really mean to look down his nose on the pastor-theologian model? Bray spends the whole review complimenting Pastor Piper’s handling of the subject, and then, in an attempt to insult the scholarly capabilities of Wright, delivers an (unintended?) shot to Piper by insulting the pastor-theologian model en toto. What the right hand gives, the left hand takes away.

  Bray prefaces his critique of the pastor-theologian model by stating that it is not a viable option in “today’s world.” Presumably, then, he appreciates the viability of the model for days gone by. And indeed, how could he not? Church history is filled with evidence to the positive: Athanasius, Augustine, Calvin, Luther, Edwards, Wesley, Barth, et al. The list is nearly endless. But Bray raises a question worth considering: is such a model attainable in our contemporary context? Two thoughts here:

  First, we haven’t really tried to find out. There is a dearth of intellectuals in the pastorate, and therefore it is difficult to assess accurately the viability of the model. Can a pastor realistically produce a book like’s McGrath’s Iustitia Dei, or Wright’s Jesus and the Victory of God (written before he became Bishop of Durham)? Maybe, maybe not. But it should be pointed out that not every academic scholar can produce this sort of magisterial work either. It’s a bit unfair to compare the two groups of theologians, simply in light of the sheer difference in numbers. If we had as many pastor-theologians attempting to do “serious scholarship” (as Bray calls it) as we do academic-theologians, we would better be able to assess the viability of the pastor-theologian model. So maybe time will tell.

  Second, Bray is absolutely correct that the pastor-theologian cannot serve the two masters of pastoral ministry and academic scholarship. This is a point I’ve made elsewhere. But the SAET (at least) is not looking to do academic scholarship. Ecclesial scholarship marks a third way, and—properly understood—is not a competing master to the pastoral calling. Indeed, the two masters are one. It may be true that the contemporary pastor-theologian will not have the luxury or time (or even interest) to chase down the secondary literature with the same vigor as the academic scholar. Undoubtedly the organizational structure of parish ministry needs to shift in such a way that the pastoral office is once again freed up to do serious theological reflection. But regardless, the pastor-theologian brings to the theological task an important strength the academic scholar lacks: an ecclesial context. The Scriptures are not merely an historical document, dead words on a page and fodder only for historians and scholars. The Scriptures are the life-blood of the Church—the local church not least. The sword hilt of Scripture has been uniquely fashioned for the pastor’s grip. The sensitive academic-theologian can wield it with profit, but it’s natural home is in the Church. The whole thrust of contemporary orthodox scholarship has largely forgotten this vital truth. We can not move theological reflection and writing out of the context of the local church without consequence.

  Categories: Book Review | John Piper | Pastor-theologian | Tom Wright

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• July 3, 2009 by Gerald Hiestand

  Doug Sweeney on Jonathan Edwards: A “Priestly Theologian”

  Doug Sweeney (senior consultant for the SAET’s 2009 Symposium) is one of today’s  leading Edwards scholars.  I had the good fortune of taking his class on Edwards while at TEDS, so when I heard about his new book Jonathan Edwards and the Ministry of the Word (IVP Academic), I quickly snatched up a copy and read it. If you haven’t had much exposure to Edwards, this is a great book. It tops out at 200 pages and is pitched toward the non-specialist. It’s clear throughout that this is not merely an academic tome, and Sweeney is not afraid to drop the occasional devotional comment, challenging the reader to consider and apply some of the lessons Edwards’ legacy teaches us. Yet the footnotes are fairly extensive given the intended audience, and those looking for more detailed research direction on Edwards will find the book helpful as well.

  The title captures well the thrust of Sweeney’s focus. Throughout the book  Sweeney shows how Edwards’ deep commitment to the written Word influences every aspect of his life and ministry. Sweeney’s book is more bibliographic than theological, and focuses mostly on Edwards’ life and ministry. Yet Sweeney does a good job of introducing the reader to Edwards’ major theological themes. (In Chapter 5 Sweeney provides concise summaries of Edwards’ four major theological treatises—The Freedom of the Will, Original Sin, On True Virtue, and The End for Which God Created the World.)

  While I’ve frequently pointed to Edwards as a consumate example of the pastor-theologian, I have always tried to be realistic about the disconnect between Edwards’ eighteenth-century New England and our contemporary context. Certainly the North American academy was not established as it is today, and thus theological discourse as a whole tended to be more ecclesial in nature, simply by default. Further, I supposed that much of Edwards thought emerged prior to the rise of higher criticism, allowing Edwards to focus more on ecclesial matters and not be sidetracked by apologetic concerns. Yet it appears my chronology is askew. Sweeney points out that Edwards was “fully apprised of recent trends in modern critical thought,” and that he “devoured” the writings of the higher critics (p. 95). The fact that Edwards engaged with the deconstructive academic theology of his day and yet devoted his theological writings to ecclesial matters demonstrates the extent to which Edwards’ theological project was primarily driven by ecclesial concerns.

  Edwards was (and remains) the most influential theologian in North America, and it should not be lost on us that he was—first and formost—an ecclesial theologian. My favorite phrase in Sweeney’s book appropriately captures the Edwardsian vision of the pastor-theologian. Edwards was, Sweeney points out, a “priestly theologian” devoted to the oracles of God and their application in the lives of his people.  I can think of no better label to describe the SAET’s vision of a pastor-theologian. If you’re a pastor with a desire to embody the Edwardsian vision, I encourage you to pick up a copy of Sweeney’s book.

  Categories: Book Review | Jonathan Edwards | Pastor-theologian

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