Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen is Professor of Systematic Theology at Fuller Theological Seminary.

From the publisher:

Kärkkäinen’s Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World is a five-volume project that aims to develop a new approach to and method of doing Christian theology in our pluralistic world at the beginning of the third millennium. Topics such as diversity, inclusivity, violence, power, cultural hybridity, and justice are part of the constructive theological discussion along with classical topics such as the messianic consciousness, incarnation, atonement, and the person of Christ.

With the metaphor of hospitality serving as the framework for his discussion, Kärkkäinen engages Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism in sympathetic and critical mutual dialogue while remaining robustly Christian in his convictions. Never before has a full-scale doctrinal theology been attempted in such a wide and deep dialogical mode.

From the Winter 2016 issue
Volume 1: Christ and Reconciliation
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Christ and Reconciliation, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World series, Volume 1 (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2013), 467 pages, ISBN 9780802868534.

From the Winter 2018 issue
Volume 2: Trinity and Revelation
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Trinity and Revelation, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, Volume 2 (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2014), 486 pages, ISBN 9780802868541.

From the Fall 2018 issue
Volume 3: Creation and Humanity
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Creation and Humanity, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, Volume 3 (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 2015), pages x+554.

From the Spring 2020 issue
Volume 4: Spirit and Salvation
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Spirit and Salvation, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, Volume 4 (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 2016), xi+498 pages, ISBN 9780802868565.

From the Summer 2020 issue
Volume 5: Hope and Community
Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Hope and Community, A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World, Volume 5 (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Press, 2017), x+574 pages with indices.

Are you comfortable or are you ready to give up everything to make Jesus more real to people that desperately need him? Pioneer missionary Griffith John wrote A Voice in the Darkness over 100 years ago, but the challenge he wrote about laying down our lives for the kingdom of God is both timely and powerful.

“He saved others; Himself He cannot save.” Matthew 27:42

What did these men mean to express by this taunt? Did they mean to express a disbelief in the reality of our Lord’s miracles? “He professed to save others; but we have found Him out at last.”

“We know now that it was all sham, all pretension. He cannot save Himself! How could He save others?” Or is there here an admission of the fact that our Lord did save others, and a faint hope expressed that He might come down from the cross and prove Himself to be the very Christ? Did they imagine that, by taunting Him in this way, He might be induced to give this proof of His Messiahship? “He has certainly saved others. Why does He not save Himself? Let Him do so now, and all our doubts will be removed. We will crown Him king, and follow Him wheresoever He may lead.” Whatever their thoughts may have been, we know that our Lord did not gratify their vain curiosity.

In this taunt there is a great truth expressed. It is true that He saved others; it is true also that He could not save Himself. But there is another truth, and this other truth was hidden from their eyes. Why could He not save Himself? The reason was not obvious to them but it is perfectly clear to us. He could not save Himself because He would save others. To deliver others He must surrender Himself; to save others He must sacrifice Himself.

It must be one or the other. He could not do both—save others and save Himself also. And what is true of the Master is true of the disciple. We, the disciples of Jesus Christ, can be saviours to men only in so far as we are willing and ready to sacrifice ourselves on their behalf. Let us then spend a little time in devout meditation on this great truth.

“Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” That is God’s voice to us, and it rests with ourselves as to whether we will respond to the Divine voice or not. But the moment we do respond and say, “Here am I, send me,” that very moment our life must become a life of service and self-sacrifice. Let me give you two or three examples as illustrations of this great truth.

There is Moses in the Old Testament. When the time had come to deliver Israel from the bondage of Egypt, God’s voice came to Moses, saying, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?”

It was optional with Moses to go or stay. But the moment he resolved to obey the Divine voice, that very moment his life became a life of service and sacrifice. Having said yes, it was not optional with him as to whether his life should be a life of self-indulgence or self-abnegation. His magnificent position in Egypt had to be renounced; his brilliant prospects of future aggrandisement had to be abandoned; his dire conflict with Pharaoh, and his forty years of suffering with and for his people in that terrible wilderness, followed as a matter of course. He lived for his people, sacrificed everything for his people, and was prepared to die for them at any moment. We know the result. Israel was saved, and God’s purposes were fulfilled. Moses saved others, himself he could not save.

There is Paul in the New Testament. When the time had come to make known to the Gentiles God’s redemptive purposes, a fit agent was needed, and God’s voice came to Paul, saying, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” It rested with Paul to decide as to whether he would or would not respond to the Divine voice; but having responded, it did not rest with him as to whether his life should or should not be a life of service and sacrifice. The moment he said, “Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?” that moment his life became a life of self-renunciation and suffering. The hunger, the thirst, the fastings, the toil, the stripes, the imprisonments, the anxieties for the churches, and finally his martyrdom followed as a matter of course.

We know the result. The Gospel was preached to the Gentiles, many churches were established in the Roman Empire, and multitudes of men were saved. Paul saved others, himself he could not save.

This excerpt is a chapter from Griffith John, A Voice in the Darkness: Lessons from 60 Years in Ancient China (Underground Publishing, 2023).

David Livingstone saved others; himself he could not save.

And there is Jesus Himself. The time had come for the full manifestation of God’s redemptive purpose. The time had come “to make reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteousness.” The voice of God is heard, saying, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” It rested entirely with the Eternal Son of God as to whether He would respond to that voice. There was no power in the universe to compel Him to leave heaven and come down to this earth to suffer and die. But the moment He did respond, the life of sorrow and suffering, Gethsemane, and the
cross, became inevitable. The life of the world depended upon that great sacrifice. Of Jesus it may be said emphatically, He saved others; Himself He could not save.

Let us now look at this great truth as an all-pervading, all-embracing law.

As a law it pervades the whole of Nature. In Nature, receiving there always means giving here; life there means death here. The animal kingdom lives on the vegetable, and the vegetable lives on the mineral. The mineral must die to itself in order to build up the vegetable, and the vegetable must die to itself in order to build up the animal. The development of vegetable life depends upon the concurrence of certain agents, such as heat, air, moisture, light, and soil. All these must die to themselves if the tree or the plant is to live and grow.

In Nature there must be giving wherever there is receiving; this must be sacrificed if that is to be realised. It is the law of natural instinct. No sooner is the child born than natural instinct steps in, and imposes this law of self-sacrifice on the mother. From this moment, her life becomes a life of holy ministration, wherein, for the sake of the child, she cannot save herself. It is the law of family, social, and political life.

Would you be a father or a son worthy of the name? Would you be a mother or a daughter worthy of the name? Would you be a husband or a wife worthy of the name? Would you be a brother or a sister worthy of the name? Would you be a neighbour worthy of the name? Would you be a statesman worthy of the name? If you would, you must come under this law as the law of your life. It is the law of philanthropy.

A true philanthropist, a lover of mankind, is a man who cannot save himself, because he will save others. Such was Paul, such was Howard, such was Livingstone, and such have been many more whose names I might mention. It is the law of the Divine life.

Let us not fall into the delusion of supposing that, because God is omnipotent, the forth-putting of His power costs Him nothing. This is a very common supposition, but nothing can be more erroneous. Even of God Almighty it is absolutely true that He cannot save Himself. He is ever saving others; Himself He cannot save.

It is the law of the Christian life. Service, rising up to self-sacrifice for the good of men, is the ideal Christian life. Every true Christian is a priest, not merely because he stands before God alone, without the intervention of a human mediator to intercede for him, not merely because he offers to God the sacrifice of thanksgiving and praise in daily adoration, but because his life is a life of priestly ministration for others, and that in sacrifices wherein, for the sake of others, he cannot save himself. He presents himself daily to God, on behalf of humanity, in sacrifices which save men from sin and misery. Such is the priesthood of the New Testament and such is the ideal Christian life.

Can you imagine a higher life than this? Can you imagine anything more God-like? It is the Christ-life. It is the noblest life possible to man.

It is emphatically the missionary’s true life. It was the life of Henry Martyn. “Now,” said Henry Martyn, as he set out for India, “let my life burn out for God.” And it did burn out for God. There you have the true missionary.

It was the life of William Johnson, of West Africa. “Had I ten thousand lives,” said William Johnson, “I would willingly offer them up for the sake of one poor African.” There you have the true missionary.

It was the life of Dober. “I determined,” said Dober, the Moravian, “if only one brother would go with me to the West Indies, I would give myself to be a slave, and would tell the slaves as much of the Saviour as I know myself.” There you have the true missionary.

It was the life of Francis Xavier. “Care not for me,” said Xavier; “think of me as dead to bodily comforts. My food, my rest, and my life are to rescue from the granary of Satan the souls for whom God has sent me hither from the ends of the earth. They will destroy me by poison, you say. It is an honour to which a sinner such as I am may not aspire. But this I dare to say, that whatsoever form of torture or death awaits me, I am ready to suffer it ten thousand times for a single soul.” There you have the true missionary.

This, then, is the missionary’s true life. A self-seeking, self-centred, self-indulgent missionary is a pitiable object to behold. He may call himself a missionary, the directors of his society may put him down as one of their missionaries, and speak of him as our able missionary, our highly valued missionary, our well-known missionary, and so on and so on, but in God’s sight he is a contemptible hireling.

Every missionary ought to be a self-sacrificing man, and every missionary worthy of the name is a self-sacrificing man. Still, the true missionary will not look upon himself as a self-sacrificing man, neither will he speak of his work, and the trials in connection with it, as if he looked upon God as his debtor. His sense of indebtedness to his God and Saviour will make it impossible for him to do that. “Can that be called a sacrifice,” asked Dr. Livingstone, “ which is simply paid back as a small part of a great debt owing to God which we can never repay? Say, rather it is a privilege.”

Then the missionary finds that his best work is very poor and imperfect, and that, try as he will, he can never come up to his own ideal. “My doings! my doings!” said John Elliot, the apostle of the Indians, “they have been poor and lean doings. Oh, child of the dust, lie low; it is Christ that hath triumphed.”

Such is the Christian’s true life. Such emphatically is the missionary’s true life. But how far is this life from being fully realised by Christians generally? How far from being fully realised by ministers at home and missionaries abroad? How far from being fully realised by any one of us? Some of us may have lofty ideals as to what we should be in this respect; but is there one among us who has realised his ideal?

Some will sacrifice much in one direction, but not in another. They will sacrifice in the line of their liking. But can that be called a sacrifice which a man does in the line of his liking? Ask them to step out of that line, and you will find that the idea of the Cross has never entered into their conception of the Christian life. For instance, some will talk much and talk eloquently, but are slow to do. They are born preachers, and their Christian life begins and ends in telling others what to do.

We must be prepared to sacrifice in all directions. The element of self-pleasing must be cast out, and the will of God must become to us the one law of our being. What some seek in the Christian life is the salvation of their own souls. This is a worthy aim.

PR

This excerpt is a chapter from Griffith John, A Voice in the Darkness: Lessons from 60 Years in Ancient China (Underground Publishing, 2023). Used with permission.

For more about Underground Publishing, read the PneumaReview.com interview with Bethany Hope about rediscovering the writings of missionaries and Christian pioneers.

As a constructive theologian, Kärkkäinen works to create a coherent explanation of religious belief (in this case Christian) by honest engagement with a variety of voices, including Christian (i.e. Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, third-world, feminist and mainline.), non-Christian (Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, and Buddhist), and scientific. In this sense, Kärkkäinen’s work is negatively described as non-foundational and non-dogmatic and positively as inclusive and dialogical flowing from an attitude of hospitality. This text is Kärkkäinen’s fourth of five installments in the development of that coherent theology.

As in the previous volume, Kärkkäinen divides this work into two main but interrelated topics, the Spirit (third person of the trinity) and Salvation. Readers are cautioned that while this project gives the appearance of a systematic theology, it is not a typical one. Kärkkäinen’s approach engages questions that have been neglected by traditional theologies as well as discusses questions typically never asked. In light of this non-traditional approach, readers must read Kärkkäinen’s ideas carefully lest they make premature judgments about what is being proffered.

Chapter 2 is where Kärkkäinen discusses the theology of the Spirit in earnest. He properly reviews some key theological points concerning the Spirit and then delves into the challenge of the filioque. Following a brief historical-theological discussion of the debate surrounding the topic, he ultimately concludes that the clause can be removed or amended in a manner that satisfies the eastern church without undermining the Spirit’s place in the Godhead.

In part 2, Salvation, the author reviews different steps of the Ordo Salutis. He is somewhat critical of the way the topic has been historically discussed, noting that the early church did not investigate the steps of salvation and that the church (Reformational?) had not paid sufficient attention to the role the Spirit played in salvation.

As with other doctrines, Kärkkäinen surveys how other major religions conceive of salvation, noting areas of agreement and divergence. What is useful about these explorations of other faiths is that readers can discover different illustrations and descriptions to articulate Christian doctrine. In this regard, this theological series can jump start a theologian’s entry into understanding non-Christian religions.

As a relatively newcomer to Calvinism, I had difficulty reading Kärkkäinen’s treatment of the doctrines of grace as taught by Reformed theologians. My challenge lay not with the author’s rejection of TULIP, but the nagging suspicion that his characterization of the system was not fully accurate. I will leave the ultimate verdict to those more grounded in Calvinism than myself. But I will say that very little attention was paid to the exegetical foundation of Calvinism’s view of salvation. This was disappointing. For even though Kärkkäinen is correct that Calvinistic understanding of salvation is somewhat absent in the church fathers, that fact does not by itself answer the question of whether Calvinism’s view of salvation is correct.

Chapter 12 covers the often-neglected topic of healing, restoration and empowerment. Kärkkäinen is to be commended for discussing the healing work of God and the thorny question of baptism of the Holy Spirit. While rejecting cessationism, he does not accept the Pentecostal notion that the baptism of the Holy Spirit is always subsequent to conversion. He strangely accepts the sacramentalist notion that Spirit baptism can, but not exclusively, occur at the event of water baptism. Here, as in his treatment of salvation, a greater focus on key scriptures would have been helpful.

At times, however, the theological discussion seemed quite disconnected from a biblical foundation. I often had this nagging suspicion that key theological issues (e.g. justification/sanctification) whose edges are established by scripture were weakened or ignored in order to bridge divides toward an ecumenism. I could be wrong. Perhaps the resources Kärkkäinen appeals to provide the evidence for his positions. But by not providing that evidence in his volume he undermines the impact of his argument. Readers interested in ecumenical and constructive theology will find much in this book and Kärkkäinen’s previous volumes to stimulate and challenge ideas. The breadth of his reading across the major religions and leading lights in mainline Christian theology is truly remarkable. Sadly, the author paid little attention to evangelical theologians and so should be read with that understanding.

Reviewed by Stephen M. Vantassel

Publisher’s page: https://www.eerdmans.com/Products/6856/spirit-and-salvation.aspx

Preview Spirit and Salvation: https://books.google.com/books/about/Spirit_and_Salvation.html?id=EIy9CwAAQBAJ

Read Stephen M. Vantassel’s reviews of all five books in Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen’s series A Constructive Christian Theology for the Pluralistic World:

Volume 1: Christ and Reconciliation

Volume 2: Trinity and Revelation

Volume 3: Creation and Humanity

Volume 4: Spirit and Salvation

Volume 5: Hope and Community

What are some of the practical implications of a theology of the cross and the Spirit in the realm of healing and ministry? This excerpt comes from the final chapter of Cletus Hull’s book, The Wisdom of the Cross and the Power of the Spirit in the Corinthian Church.

This excerpt comes from pages 144-148 of The Wisdom of the Cross and the Power of the Spirit in the Corinthian Church: Grounding Pneumatic Experiences and Renewal Studies in the Cross of Christ by Cletus L. Hull, III (Pickwick, 2018).

As a pastor for thirty years, I preach and teach about the power of God to heal. Because salvation and healing are in the cross (Matt. 8:17), I believe prayer for healing is appropriate for pastoral ministry. Charismatic episcopal priest Dennis Bennett wrote that healing “is the most widely accepted of the nine gifts of the Holy Spirit in Christendom today.”[1] However, the results of healing prayer must be tempered by a reasonable theology of the cross and suffering. Charles Farah expressed concern between the balance of Christian healing and modern-day emphases on faith. Because of disregard within some Pentecostal/Charismatic circles with their teaching on healing, he believed a correction with classic theology was necessary. In his perceptive book, From the Pinnacle of the Temple, he presented a common scenario in renewal healing:

Major premise: Healing is on the Atonement.
Minor premise: Faith is the key to healing.
Conclusion: Therefore, those who are prayed for in faith will be healed.

Right? Not always. It just is not that simple. There is always an X factor in healing, an unknown quantity that God does not chose to reveal. Healing is a divine mystery and humility is our best approach to unraveling the answers.[2]

Yet, most of the healings of Christ appeared instantly, thus, we have believed that healing should occur sooner than later. The issue in renewal healing has lacked acknowledgment that suffering was a component of the faith journey. An acceptance of the suffering of Christ on the cross can relieve the proposition that “everything will always be fine.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer called this type of faith “cheap grace.” “Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices.”[3] Thus, as Farah aptly writes:

theology always lives within the realm of mystery. No theologian can escape the mysterious ways of God, the capricious ways of the Spirit. Theology is a peculiar science because, when it is most true to itself, it prostrates itself in humility, prayer and adoration. True theology is a theology of prayer, and in the presence of a living God one adores; he never wholly understands.[4]

Thus, sound theology is necessary for practical faith and healing.

At times, comments such as “not having enough faith” or “pray harder” causes damage in a situation of healing prayer. We read that Paul left Trophimus sick (2 Tim. 4:20) and Epaphroditus almost died (Philippians 2:26-27). Did the apostle lack faith with his thorn in the flesh? (2 Cor. 12:7-9). D.R. McConnell, in his controversial book, A Different Gospel: A Historical and Biblical Analysis of the Modern Faith Movement, asks this piercing question: “One cannot help but wonder how Paul’s bodily illness would have been received today among charismatics. Would charismatics ‘despise’ and ‘loathe’ his illness as an indication of his immature faith?”[5]  A balanced theology of the cross with divine healing would revive trust in solving many problems in these specific situations.

What does the Bible mean when it talks about salvation? Scholar Jon Ruthven shares some “hasty, preliminary notes” as he works through this important question and asks for your feedback.

In response to a query from a friend, I am working through what “salvation” means. Certainly, in traditional Christian theology, “salvation” means being forgiven of sins, regenerated and being good, then in a position to go to heaven. I just attended a church service where I heard exactly that.

In the Synoptics, however, “salvation” pretty much always means “healing” or “rescue.” Even in Mt 1:21 and Hb 9:28 Jesus’ “saving” from sins may have had a primary referent to the broken covenant penalties of Dt 28, not simply going to hell, hence, the emphasis on healing in the New Testament “gospel.”

Since the Synoptic Gospels (Mt, Mk, Lk) were written, mostly later, as summaries and “big picture” correctives to a Christianity that immediately began to drift off course in so many ways, we ought to take these Gospels (and John) as our prime source, and not dismiss them as “historical prologue” to the “real stuff”—”justification by faith” in Paul, as Luther and Calvin taught. (Paul was more amenable to Protestant “demythologizing” of the Gospel than the Gospels themselves).

The Gospels, then, were attempts to reset and recenter Jesus’ original mission and message. Based on the direction church doctrine took after the introduction of the Gospels, it seems that this “reset” didn’t really succeed. Maybe that success would come far in the future, but certainly not from the 2nd century and thereafter, where Christianity increasingly became an exercise in human/demonic speculation and pontificating (creeds and apologetics), not revelation and power. In the New Testament, demons always “knew” perfect “theology”; they did not “know” God in the way of knowing that God requires.

There was a man who said he couldn’t become a Christian until he gave up his cigarettes. Normally, I would respond that he needed a “salvation” experience which would then empower him to give up the habit. But I wonder if this man and his cigarettes may have been God’s test to show if he was really going to obey God’s revelation: was he going to hear and obey God in this defining test or not? The cigarettes, by themselves, are trivial, the test of obedience is everything—the first step toward “salvation” that is, life in the revealing, empowering Spirit/presence of God. “Repent” means “turning in the opposite direction”—away from one way of living to another: it involves a basic decision, and action, for total change.

Salvation is defined in the New Testament as entering the New Covenant. Defined in Acts 2:39, citing Isa 59:21, and 2 Cor 3, describing Jer 31:33 (also Heb 12:18-25), receiving the New Covenant Spirit of prophecy and power. This is the mission of Jesus defined in all four Gospels: “He will baptize in the Holy Spirit.”

“This is my covenant with them,” says the Lord: “My Spirit that is upon you, and my words that I have put in your mouth, shall not depart out of your mouth, or out of the mouth of your offspring, or out of the mouth of your children’s offspring,” says the Lord, “from this time forth and forevermore.”

Frank D. Macchia, Justified in the Spirit: Creation, Redemption, and the Triune God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 360 pages, ISBN 9780802837493.

Justified in the Spirit is a sophisticated attempt to do what its title suggests: to find an increased role for the Spirit within the Christian doctrine of justification. The book represents a bringing together of a number of different perspectives—including those that derive primarily from centuries of tradition, along with more recent insights from biblical scholarship. The book moves through discussions of the shape of soteriology within different streams of tradition (Catholic, Lutheran, Calvinist, Pentecostal, etc.), and combines these with significant contributions from well known theologians. Although Macchia is a theologian himself, he pays more attention to the fruits of New Testament scholars than many other theologians working today.

One of the book’s main arguments is summed up on p. 53: “Participation in Christ is first and primarily a pneumatological reality as believers are caught up in the communion of the Spirit with Christ and, through Christ with the heavenly Father.” This sentence says a lot. One of the book’s main aims seems to be to forge links between aspects of soteriology and Trinitarian language.

Many of the main features, it must be said, are indicative of the age in which this book was written: it is certainly vogue to be “broadly Trinitarian, ecclesiological, and eschatological” (a description found on the back cover). While there may a proper place to be “Trinitarian”, the way in which that call has been handled in recent years has been a little over the top, as it sometimes seems as if one’s handling of any given doctrine can somehow be graded on how great a role it assigns to each member of the Trinity. It is almost as though theologians are afraid to leave out one of the members of the Trinity in any given discussion, even when the topic (e.g. hermeneutics) does not have a natural bearing on the doctrine of the Trinity. This danger seems to be somewhat greater among Pentecostals, as some appear to have a strong desire to bring the Spirit into doctrines in which the Spirit arguably does not belong.

Frank D. Macchia

Does Macchia do that here? It is difficult to say. His discussion is at all places carefully researched, and his arguments are never fleeting or forced. Although he never gives the keys (so to speak) to NT scholarship, he does listen to it intently and with a genuine openness. And yet the question remains whether Macchia accomplishes a pneumatological orientation of the doctrine of justification simply by construing “justification” more broadly than others do, by allowing it to include (rather than lead to) the fruit of the spirit-filled life. The same could be said of how Macchia achieves his heightened emphasis on the role of the spirit-filled community. Both of these concerns naturally belong within a theology, but are they really a part of justification per se? Macchia evidently disagrees with the habit of identifying “justification” with a forensic aspect of salvation, and identifying the other aspects of salvation with other terms. Yet he writes as if the term “justification” must apply to all aspects of salvation—including justification per se, sanctification, and redemption. (See esp. pp. 204–5.) Macchia is not alone in this, but it is still unfortunate that he does not explain why he takes this approach.

Stephen J. Nichols, For Us and for Our Salvation: The Doctrine of Christ in the Early Church (Wheaton, Illinois: Crossway Books, 2007), 172 pages, ISBN 1581348673.

Stephen Nichols has prepared an excellent primer for the study of the history of the early Christian Church. This book is appropriate for use in an undergraduate classroom or for self-guided study of early church history. However, Nichols has written much of this book in reference to the recent popular book and movie, the Da Vinci Code. While this is an appropriate topic for today, it is likely to loose relevance quickly as it fades from popular memory.

In this book, Nichols does not assume that the reader will recognize the theological words and terms. He paused often to insert either a parenthetical definition or a sidebar description of unfamiliar words. When it is appropriate, he has illustrated his point with a simple chart to help the reader sort through the good and the bad, the saint and the heretic. Additionally, Nichols has added a helpful glossary at the end of the book that will aid the reader to grasp key names, events, and ideas more fully. Further, Nichols has supplied the reader with two appendixes that will guide those who might desire to continue to study any of the varied topics.

Stephen J. Nichols was named the new President of Reformation Bible College and Chief Academic Officer of Ligonier Ministries in March, 2014. ReligionNews.com press release

Not only has Nichols divided the study of early church history into easy-to-grasp segments, he has also provided minimal commentary; commenting just enough to help the reader focus on the big picture. Moreover, instead of giving his own interpretation, Nichols introduces readers to the writings of those central to early church history, letting them speak for themselves by first citing a contemporary source and then including their own words.

Nichols’ book is a succinct introduction to the earliest attempts to understand the mystery of the divinity and humanity of Jesus Christ. Nichols has uncluttered the landscape for his student; he has provided help for his students to sort through the most important events and ideas. He will help to bring understanding to the early theological ideas, and thereby he will prepare the student to have a more complete understanding of the theological ideas of today.

Reviewed by John R. Miller

Preview the book here: http://books.google.com/books?id=cmCPb3IQkzUC

Publisher’s page: http://www.crossway.org/books/for-us-and-for-our-salvation-tpb/

Pastor Michael Peters looks at the Baptism with the Spirit in light of the whole salvation experience.

Editorial Introduction

This article is a chapter from Michael Peter’s book In Defense of Charismatics. In Defense was written as a response to John MacArthur’s book Charismatic Chaos and as a defense of charismatic beliefs and teachings. Peters wrote in the introduction to his book:

There is a lot of good among charismatic Christians that is worth defending. But, whenever God uses human instruments there are failings; therefore some criticism is justified. My purpose is not to defend every charge against individuals, but to defend charismatic teaching.

Because the emphasis is upon defending charismatic teaching, any number of noncharismatic authors could have been quoted. However, MacArthur’s book includes all the significant doctrinal differences, therefore his is the primary author quoted. The reader should not assume that MacArthur has a vendetta against charismatics or that charismatics do against him.

MacArthur has provided a service to the body of Christ by expressing his concerns and beliefs. It affords the opportunity to respond. Some would rather keep such doctrinal differences concealed. But Paul taught that we are to speak truth in love so that we can grow up in Christ (Eph. 4:15). If we cannot openly address differences we are destined to immaturity.

My hope and prayer is that upon reading this book, charismatics will become deepened in their convictions, and that noncharismatics will grow in their appreciation of charismatics by understanding that we too only want scriptural Christianity.

Introduction

What distinguishes charismatics from noncharismatics? The Baptism with the Holy Spirit which is a baptism of power (Acts 1:5-8) is what distinguishes charismatics from noncharismatics. Charismatics affirm it is possible to be a Christian without being baptized with the Holy Spirit. “It is possible for us to be believers in the Lord Jesus Christ without having received the Baptism in the Holy Spirit,”¹ wrote Martin-Lloyd Jones. Noncharismatics affirm that at conversion every Christian is baptized with the Holy Spirit. “Spirit baptism is actually an integral part of every Christian’s salvation experience,”² wrote John MacArthur. That is the difference.

The differences between these two views raises the question: Is the Baptism with the Spirit distinct from salvation? The answer to that question is discovered by looking at the New Testament accounts of salvation experiences as seen in the book of Acts. Let us examine the accounts that make direct or indirect reference to salvation and the Baptism with the Spirit and then compare these passages with the teaching of the epistles and historic Christianity.