Introduction
I read and greatly appreciated Timon’s engagement with the point I made on Tucker regarding my belief that we are past the point of political solutions. I agree with a lot of what he said, and so this should be considered less of a rejoinder and more of a love fest, clearing up an understandable confusion.
The point I am seeking to emphasize is one I know I have argued before (see particularly #8 & 9), but if a friendly critic like Timon doesn’t see it, then clearly I am not being emphatic enough. Today, resolving to do better, I am going to come at it from a different angle.
Banner of Truth Postmill Pietism
But before attempting to make myself understood in this matter, I want to have a shot at explaining why it might be a challenge to make myself understood in this matter.
Let us begin with the fact that I am a postmillennialist, one who became postmill in the eighties, and a son of the Puritans. Let that set the stage.
As such, one of the institutions to which I am greatly in debt is the Banner of Truth Trust. Those good folks were responsible for putting numerous Puritan and Reformed writers back in print. Because of their efforts, many modern Christians, including me, were introduced to Rutherford, Baxter, Sibbes, Owen, et al. But the introduction, however beneficial, was still a truncated and partial one. The reprints that they got back into circulation emphasized our Reformed fathers’ doctrinal integrity and their devotional piety. Compared to the doctrinal goo and sentimental mush that many modern evangelicals were being rescued from, this was all salutary and good.
But a fundamental question was still left unaddressed and unanswered. It was not unanswered by our Reformed fathers, but it was left unaddressed by the Banner of Truth Trust. Left almost entirely untouched was the political theology of the magisterial Reformers, and which, because they were worldview thinkers, was largely a piece with everything else.
Now if you imbibe a steady diet of Calvinism, and Whitefieldian revivalism, and the Puritan postmillennial hope, it would be really easy for modern Christians to do evangelism, plant churches, and pray for revival with the full expectation that whatever might come after the great cascading revivals that would usher in the Edwardian purpose for which God made the world would be something that just . . . “sorted itself out.” And after all these revivals, “something something something.”
In other words, the postmillennialsm and revivalism were to be this gigantic ticker tape parade, after which parade no one was assigned to do the clean up, not even after the cavalcade of elephants. This great eschatological wahoo moment would be the equivalent of going off the high dive. Figuring out how to govern in the aftermath of such an exhilarating moment would be like learning how to swim.
And so for various reasons, this work of Puritan ressourcement was the equivalent of, “Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first.” The eschatological hope was fun, and the devotional words were meaty and encouraging. But if you were to venture into the political theology of the Reformers, first thing you know, you might be be “contextualizing” the burning of Servetus.
The inimitable Gary North took a great deal of glee in pointing out that the postmill pietists had no clue about what we were all supposed to do in the aftermath of their much ballyhooed reformation and revival. Not only did they not have a clue, they were doggedly committed to maintaining and defending that principled stance of studied ambivalence.
Because I came of doctrinal age in that era, and because I read a bunch of those reprints, and because their version of postmill revivalism (Edwards! Whitefield!) got me where I am today, it would be very easy to view me as a Banner Boomer. And that really would be a “bottom up” emphasis, while really neglecting or truly ignoring what a believing magistrate was supposed to do. But not to worry. Not only was I reading the Banner stuff by day, I was also, under the covers and with a flashlight, reading Rushdoony and North and Bahnsen, who raised all the dark questions and gave all the dark answers.
The end result of all of this was the perfect balance that you see before you today.
I will say something about Rushdoony and Althusius in a little bit.
Eggs and Scrambled Eggs
Timon begins by saying that he does not believe that we have a chicken and egg question.
“In short, the political v. spiritual question is not the chicken and egg conundrum it seems at first blush.”
I agree. I think it is more like three eggs on the counter and three eggs scrambled (Bahnsen) or three eggs over easy (Althusius).
Timon describes the kind of political solution he is envisioning, and he does so in thorough detail. He lays out the procedure by which we are to scramble the eggs. And, because this is a love fest, I agree with him that this is how we are to scramble the eggs. So when I say that “there is no political solution” all I mean is that you can’t scramble the eggs if you don’t have any eggs. By all means, I say, when you have the eggs, you should scramble them in a particular way, and Timon does a great job outlining how that should be done.
But look at some of the phrases that I took from his article.
“True religion cannot be restored by a corrupt, apathetic ministry.” “Models for imitation include David, Solomon, Asa, Hezekiah, Josiah, and Nehemiah.” “It is first persuasion of leaders, representatives, lesser magistrates.” “the godly magistrate surrounded himself with advisers” “Men of true character” “Selection of the right men is admittedly difficult but imperative” “School, especially colleges, is where buy-in is constructed and future propagators of the gospel and morality are forged.” “there remains the problem of selection of appropriate ministers.”
The question before the house is “where are you getting all these marvelous men?” Where are you buying the eggs?
A political solution (what some call “top down”) rides necessarily on certain bottom up features. This political solution that Timon outlines requires a reformed ministry, a reformed school system, a reformed political class, and the thousands of men that would be necessary to pull this off are thousands of men who got into the positions they did because of tens of thousands of unsung heroes who fed them, and who taught them to read. We are looking for tens of thousands of mothers and grandmothers who spanked, and taught, and sang, and baked. We will discover in our researches that there were law school instructors, and authors of big fat books, and kindergarten teachers who started them on Scripture memory, and pastors of churches with robust catechism classes, and so forth.
Suppose that Timon’s political solutions have been effected, and are in the history books. A century after that, when competent historians are studying the whole affair, they will be able to point to any number of antecedent causes. These antecedent causes provided the reformers with the personnel and materiel necessary for them to do what they did. This is what I expect the reformation and revival to provide.
And this is why I argue that it is not a top down thing and it is not a bottom up affair. It is necessarily both, like a pair of pliers. One half of the jaws is connected to the top down handle, and the other one is connected to the bottom up handle. The fulcrum, of course, is Matthew 28:18-20.
Situated Reformations
One more thing.
Timon acknowledges a point of agreement that I believe needs to be developed further, and at the end of which I would anticipate complete agreement. A military strategist takes into account the various factors that can be wildly diverse, depending. The number of enemy troops, the weather, the terrain, the number of your troops, the length of the supply lines, and so on. Any general who goes into his battles with a “one size fits all” mentality is going to be either a deposed general or dead one in short order.
The task of discipling a political order is a task that can look completely different, depending on whether you are the apostle Paul entering Rome for the first time or you are George Washington dealing with something like the Whiskey Rebellion. This is a point where Timon and I appear to agree.
Wilson’s point is well taken that in a depraved, pagan society it would be tough to find a Christian magistrate. Granted.
At the time of the Reformation, the enemies of the gospel were fierce and formidable, but the Reformers did have one thing going for them, and it was not insignificant. The Europe they were challenging with the Word had been formally acknowledging the Lordship of Jesus Christ for a thousand years. The triune God was everywhere worshiped. The Bible was formally acknowledged to be the Word of God. Everyone believed the Bible with all their heart, and the Reformers were in the position of being able to say, “Well, then. Let me show you what it actually says.”
At the time of the American Founding, this kind of thing was even more pronounced. The Americans were dealing with a recurring problem—crown tyranny through the royal prerogative—but they were doing so with centuries of British common law on their side. When you couple that with the widespread Calvinism of the colonists, a Calvinism that had been radically quickened in the Great Awakening, a widespread and developed knowledge of Protestant resistance theory, the constellation of leaders we had in that era were able to draw on a considerable level of support from the people.
Times like the Reformation, or the American Founding, remind me of converted Pharisees. It would not surprise me in the slightest to discover that Saul of Tarsus was a Pharisee who had the Old Testament memorized. But he was nevertheless an insolent man and a blasphemer, still unregenerate (1 Tim. 1:13). But what did this mean a week after his encounter with Christ on the Damascus road? Well, he was a young Christian, true enough. But he was a young Christian who already had the Old Testament memorized. He was given a key to the armory, and when he opened it, he found it stocked with an amazing array of weapons.
“Then said he unto them, Therefore every scribe which is instructed unto the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which bringeth forth out of his treasure things new and old.”Matthew 13:52 (KJV)
The conversion of the Roman Empire was a different kind of thing altogether. The antecedent resources I am talking about, whether long stockpiled or recently provided, were simply not there. This is why Paul’s program was tactically completely different from John Calvin’s. What Paul did was preach the gospel, plant churches, and wait for three centuries. If he ever got his audience before Caesar, he would not have taken the opportunity to suggest certain reforms in the economic realm. He would have refrained from doing this, not because Christ doesn’t have authority in that realm, but rather because he had bigger fish to fry. The apostle was, of necessity, playing the long game. First things first. Before we have Christian reforms of a pagan order, we require more Christians.
The Current Moment
So then, what about modern America? Are we more like ancient Rome or like Europe at the time of the Reformation. I would suggest the answer is both, and this is a place where I believe that Timon and I are in complete agreement.
“Christians are still the majority religious group, and vestiges of cultural Christianity still predominates public morals in most of America.”
Our ruling elites are neo-pagans, true enough, not to mention their media minions. But I believe that we still have a lot more resources than the average conservative activist thinks that we do. The recognizable outlines of the older Christian order still exist in many places throughout the heartland.
When the moment comes, there will be resources to draw on. If that moment were to be today, there would be resources. It is our ongoing task to pray and labor for reformation and revival, so that if the moment is ten years from now there would be . . . even more resources.
And, oh yes. My promise. Althusius is simply Rushdoony plus 500 years.