​John Macleod Campbell (1800-1872) was eight years younger than Edward Irving (see last post in this series), and defrocked by the Church of Scotland two years sooner.
 
The tension that led to Campbell’s trial might be rooted in his concept of faith, which in turn was affected by his pastoral experience with Reformed (Calvinist) Scots of the Dordt/Westminster variety (think TULIP). Here’s the problem (every theological tradition runs into them, as they attempt to work out things that God hasn’t clearly revealed):

1. Salvation is entirely a matter of who God chooses to save – unconditional election. Christ died only for “the elect” and God forgives only the elect. God effectually “damns” the rest by His choice as well.
2. Calvinism has consistently taught that God works in the people he chooses in order to “sanctify” them (make them joyful, holy and good-work-doing folks) and assure that they persevere in the faith to the end.
3. But in Reformed/Calvinist communities, people are often encouraged to see themselves as elect and “act” the part OR to examine themselves for “fruit” that would be signs of assurance that they are elect
4. Nonetheless, even if you give intellectual assent to the doctrines, if you aren’t “feeling it” and aren’t “doing” the faith, it makes sense to wonder whether maybe you aren’t elect (or maybe are elected to damnation instead), in which case, why bother? This is known as the problem of “antinomianism” (lawlessness) that troubles various forms of grace-based Christianity.

 
Campbell saw a lot of spiritual malaise in his congregation and reverse-engineered the problem. Ultimately, this experiential problem can only be solved, Campbell thought, by deep experiential knowledge of oneself as the beloved child of God, already forgiven, which gives birth to love of God (this is true faith, trusting love of God as He is revealed in Jesus Christ). Campbell sensed that in a system of limited election, only rare individuals seemed to truly “know” this about themselves. However, appealing to the more universal-sounding passages of scripture, Campbell arrived at, and began to preach, that God truly loved everyone, Jesus died for everyone (1 John 2:2, 1 Tim. 4:10, 2 Cor. 5:14), and everyone is already forgiven by God. Everyone who believed this, embraced it with joy and persevered in trusting in God’s salvation would be saved. Those who rejected God’s salvation or fell away, well… They went to hell with their sins forgiven, essentially rejecting God’s salvation and forgiveness to the end.
 
Michael Jinkins, writing about Campbell's trial (in a fascinating piece on heresy), states,
“Campbell taught that Christ died to reveal the loving heart of God toward all humanity, not to change God’s heart toward us or to win the benefits of salvation for a select few. He laid out his arguments, citing the Bible and other confessions, including the Heidelberg Catechism and the Scots Confession, to support his teachings. But he was sternly told by opponents: “We are far from appealing to the word of God on this ground; it is by the [Westminster] Confession of Faith that we must stand; by it we hold our livings.” In other words, the Westminster Confession tells us what the Bible means.”
 
Of course, Campbell's view had its own problems (the problems that tend to lurk around Arminian theology): How can everyone be equal before God and not all be saved? How can the one who merely “receives the gift” not end up patting himself or herself on the back as wiser, humbler, etc. than the person who rejects the message. Those who reject must in some innate sense be too proud, selfish, foolish, hard-hearted to have faith (ie. they must be innately more sinful in some sense than those who accept the message). This is a problem, but it wasn’t the problem Campbell was facing.
 
Campbell did not resolve the role of the Holy Spirit in God's plan or in the subjective experience of faith, but what he attempted to do was to preserve God’s universal loving care (and action) for all humanity as essential to the character of God as love. The records indicate that Campbell’s congregation was refreshed in their faith by his ministry, several notable people regarded his trial as a travesty and he kept preaching (outside the Church of Scotland) to popular response. His book on the Nature of the Atonement (online here) influenced T.F. and James Torrance in their own monumental theological accomplishments.
 
- For a lengthy and helpful review of Campbell’s theology, trial and preaching life, see this article by James C. Goodloe IV (Princeton).
- For some great theology podcasts (once you get past the cheesy intro music) from the unlimited atonement Barthian/Torrance “Reformed” tradition, see the “You’re Included” podcast by Grace Communion International (which used to be a crazy legalistic cult, but “reformed” literally in the 90s).

image from apostolicarchives.com

Edward Irving (1792-1834) died of tuberculosis at about my age. He had been defrocked for heresy the previous year after taking a little London congregation from 50 to 1000 people. Reading this account at christianity.com, it seems as though his downfall was pride, rather than TB.
 
He was also at the center of the proto-charismatic circle (and may have inadvertently founded the Catholic Apostolic Church) I alluded to in my last post, and he seems to have encountered some of the most consistently disastrous flaws of some charismatics (eschewing medical help out of certainty that God will heal, disorder in the church).
 
A brilliant preacher, he sometimes looked down on others, but in pastoral-care he was amazingly Christ-like, and there may be a theological source of inspiration for this compassion: The theological issue that brought him down was a theme rehashed from Gregory of Nazianzus: that Christ, in his incarnation had taken on, not just a human nature, but a sinful nature, and had remained sinless only through his intimate connection with the Holy Spirit. This has the benefit of giving believers a much greater sense of Christ’s commonality with us; a greater sense that we can mutually “relate” to each other. Irving’s atonement theology therefore emphasized Christ’s Representative rather than substitutionary function, in relation to humanity in his life, death and resurrection (one theme of Hebrews and Romans in the New Testament). Although the two words imply similar concepts, Representational theories emphasize Christ's incarnation and representation of humanity as essential and even primary aspects of reconciling humanity with God. Protestants after the Reformation have tended to emphasize (rather exclusively) Christ’s death; almost implying that everything else in the Gospels is mere commentary and logistics for the cross (and maybe the resurrection). Irving’s approach was broader, but the precise point on which he was attacked were his references to Christ’s “sinful flesh” which may have implied something that Irving did not intend. Nazianzus had written that "what is unassumed is unredeemed" (or something like that), meaning that if Christ had NOT taken on everything it means to be human (including our "fallen" condition) then he could not have redeemed us in our humanity. Whatever was made of Irving's phraseology, that's some good theology. 

A few years ago, I was doing some personal research on atonement theology and came across the work of John Mcleod Campbell, a 19th century Scottish minister who became a major influence on the Torrances, the theological dynasty of 20th century Scotland. I found Campbell’s ideas very refreshing; and then I found out he was defrocked by the Church of Scotland for heresy by Westminster standards.
 
Recently, I’ve been reading George MacDonald, a Scottish Congregationalist minister who also wrote fantasy literature (“fairy stories”) and influenced C.S. Lewis (if you’ve read The Great Divorce, MacDonald shows up to talk with the protagonist in heaven), as well as Tolkein, Chesterton, L’Engle, Oswald Chambers, Lewis Carrol and W.H. Auden. I’ve found MacDonald equally refreshing; and it turns out… in his first pastorate, his salary was halved because he was accused of preaching heresy. Now, I’m not sure what's more disturbing: that this inspirational Trinitarian lover of God was labeled a heretic or that his congregation THOUGHT he was a heretic, and decided to keep him on at half-salary!
 
Recently, I wondered: “I wonder if these guys ever met each other? Scotland is not that big. I should google something.” (Yes, when I wonder, I actually think, “I wonder…”)  Anyway, it appears that at some points, they did run in the same circles. Even stranger (I thought), these circles seem to intersect with small-scale “charismatic” happenings in 19th century Scotland that I didn’t know anything about but which roughly correspond to the 2nd Great Awakening in the U.S.
 
So, why am I drawn to proto-charismatic heretical Scottish theologians? I would have sworn, “I just stumbled across these guys! I wasn’t looking for trouble! I’m not an incorrigible contrarian! It has nothing to do with ethnicity!” but… maybe its because I come from a line of Scottish non-conformists. James Hunter and the Regulators of North Carolina apparently come up in the popular Outlander series, but I just grew up hearing the tale of their opposition to colonial governance from my grandfather. In more recent history, an ancestor who might fall in line somewhere between myself and the aforementioned grandfather failed to pledge a fraternity at UNC when he knocked a senior frat “brother” off the frat-house porch when said brother threatened to paddle him for wearing Argyle socks with his penny-loafers (never try to separate a Highlander from his Argyle!). So, maybe it's in the blood.
 
Anyway, in the next couple posts, I’ll try to give some sense of what I appreciate about these transgressive Scottish evangelical theologians.

 Image above from churchnewspaper.com review of Andrew Davison's book on the sacraments for Anglicans.

After my post yesterday, I realized that I probably left the impression that Christians today are bereft of the theological resources they need. This is certainly not the case and of course I am not the only one talking about this. In fact, even though many of cradle evangelicals in America are looking for deeper roots (or, maybe cooler aesthetics) in liturgical churches, it still seems to me that a lot of evangelical churches still aren't aware of those resources or aren't interested (great reflection/diagnosis HERE). I think part of this has to do with a residue of Anti-Catholicism, but even without that, evangelicals tend to disdain "ritualism" and associate "required" Christian practices with "legalism" and "works-righteousness" even though many of their historical heroes did not feel this way. Methodist minister Gregory S. Neal has pointed out that: "In general, Methodists – like many other catholic Christians – affirm that God's grace comes to us through instrumental means; Baptists, on the other hand, tend to affirm that God's grace is either neutral toward instrumental means, or entirely independent from them." And, I personally feel that this Baptist theological distinctive is pervasive well beyond those churches that call themselves Baptist.

So, let me briefly sketch a sacramental theology of the "in-between" and then suggest some resources for further reading. Briefly, let me describe what I am calling a "theology of the in-between": recognizing or bestowing a level of sacredness or "God-presentness" on some moments, places, and objects in-between the individualistic personal encounter with God and the grand awareness of God's presence everywhere, making all creation sacred. 

Two biblical principles for a theology of the in-between:
1. incarnation - the 2nd person of the Trinity becomes local, locatable, singularly present in space and time, finite and material in Jesus Christ
2. election - throughout the Bible, God chooses and uses certain places, times, material objects to reveal Himself and manifest his redemption in unique ways, thereby not choosing all times, places, objects and locations in the same way (though certainly God was and is present in all times, places and material objects in other ways).

The Christian theology of the communally practiced sacraments flows out of the perception that Jesus, in his own election of certain times, places and material objects, for use in his ministry and/or the ministry of his followers, has gifted the repetition of these practices to the church.

Resources for further inquiry (besides the links above):
Anabaptist Liturgy: Sacramental Theology by Michelle Ferguson
​Mark Galli, Beyond Smells and Bells - there's a nice pdf of the intro HERE
Biola Center for Christian Thought has some great resources HERE. I especially like Reformed philosopher James K.A. Smith's work on "Cultural Liturgies" as it relates to sacramental practice.
For a clearly articulated statement/defense of Catholic sacramentalism read Alan Schreck's book Catholic and Christian.

And yet, I can't resist 1950s style religious-education images. Its my quirky sense of humor. Sorry. Sort of.

Image above from fredbroom.blogspot - sorry Father!

I'm teaching a class on the Reformation right now. One of the interesting things my (mostly Protestant) students are learning is that the "heroes" of the Protestant Reformation cared deeply about some things that they (and maybe their churches) don't care very much about at all: the Christian sacraments.
          For those unfamiliar with the word "sacrament," the sacraments are material and ritual practices of most Christian churches that Christians believe were instituted by Jesus, the most universal being baptism and the Lord's Supper (also known as Communion, the Eucharist and even "the Love Feast" for some Anabapists), although some Anabaptists include footwashing (which makes as much sense to me as any others) and Catholics and Orthodox Christians recognize 7 Sacraments. A common (though largely Catholic) definition of a sacrament is "an outward sign of an inward grace."
Many people today are emphasizing a "sacramental theology" that recognizes the possibility (maybe even the tendency) for God's presence to be recognized in a great multitude of mundane places, objects and circumstances (ie. "the sacrament of the present moment"). I think all of this has a great deal of merit.
         Here's the thing: during the Reformation, Luther, Zwingli, Melancthon, Bullinger, Bucer, Calvin and obviously a great number of Catholic thinkers, all argued passionately about the nature of the Lord's Supper. Distinctively, all of the previous people thought it was okay to kill Anabaptists (and Anabaptists were willing to die) for their views on... baptism, obviously. Theologian Brian Gerrish has recently argued that the Eucharist, not predestination, was really the central concept in John Calvin's thought.
        I understand why many people now see these arguments as petty, overly rationalized fights about things that are really rather mysterious. However, in my observations of many evangelical churches in the United States, the biggest issues regarding the sacraments at many (not all) churches have become logistical. How can we distribute some portion of grape juice and cracker to so many people, quickly and efficiently, so that we can get them to eat and drink in unison? Perhaps because of the logistical problems involved, many Protestant churches only partake of Communion once a month or even once a "quarter." Baptism involves fewer people (usually), but more liquid and wardrobe changes. 
       I really don't want to restart the sacrament "wars" that have divided Christians over the centuries, but if Christians believe that they should continue to practice the sacraments (as Christians have done since very early in the church's history), shouldn't our foremost question be "how do we imbue this practice with as much of the meaning it has held and can hold as our theology will allow?" rather than merely, "how do we pull this off, quickly and efficiently?"
​        Maybe theology is where the change needs to start. Christians need to embrace a theology that expands beyond human-brains-believing-things-attached-to-eyes-that-read-the-Bible-and-mouths-that-talk-about-it. And yet, Christians need a theology that is willing to contract and mark out certain times and spaces and objects as special and sacred for us (as a community) in a way that other things are not. It's entirely well and good for individual Christians to experience God in a multitude of settings, but not if those individual experiences negate participation in the community. We need a theology that goes beyond individualism and yet stops short of making everything generically holy and spiritual. A theology of the in-between.