I understand why Romanists pump-fist the air when they hear things like this. What is confusing is why it is deemed even amongst Reformed to be a good thing that Nancy Pelosi is being reigned in by her church.

The argument made by Rome and golf clapped by some conservative Calvinists seems to be that she is displaying an ignorance of and inconsistency with her church’s teaching regarding abortion. She thus deserves formal and public rebuke; some even suggest ecclesial discipline which seems to draw hurrahs from plenty of Reformed and Presbyterians alike. I am not sure when Reformed began applauding Romanist ecclesiology. If the argument is that she is guilty of dogmatic ignorance and inconsistency, then where are other public rebukes for these same infractions on the parts of other public church members? There surely have to be others somewhere in history that are also guilty of getting their church’s teachings wrong. Maybe it is just a blind spot of mine, but I really can’t recall something akin to an Archbishop utilizing public news media to point out where a public figure got her facts publicly wrong. I have no vested interest in seeing a Romanist behave more two-kingdomly. Speaking of consistency, that would be about as inconsistent as challenging a priest on papal authority or a Baptist for withholding baptism from his child. But what is with those who otherwise consider themselves “Old School Presbyterians” joining this fray?

If even the Reformed who are quick to set aside their ecclesiology and ostensible two-kingdom theology in order to applaud Madame Speaker’s discipline then where are the public rebukes for those Protestant legislators who have either theonomic or transformational leanings? If confessional Reformed like what Rome is doing to one of her own then where are all the two-kingdomites going out of their way to make it clear in the mainstream that something like National 10 Commandments Day is an affront? Little Geneva is rotten with public displays of relevancy that are misrepresentations of two-kingdom doctrine.

I think the answer is really pretty simple. It has more to do with politics than religion. I think once again this has a lot more to do with what some think and others legislate than someone getting their church history a bit skewed, however public it may be. Like those in vitro who oddly seem to enjoy from otherwise orthodox Calvinists the notion that the implications of being fully human don’t really apply to them specifically, the Spirituality of the Church doesn’t seem to apply to this issue in general. This seems to bear witness once again the extent to which a moralized politics and a politicized religion obscure what the best of a Reformed witness has to offer in its ability to clarify the nature of and the relationship between the two kingdoms. It seems like one thing for a moralized politics to serve the proverbial “gridlock” in contemporary politics—I get that as it seems perfectly in keeping with the principles of the world. Moreover, I don’t necessarily begrudge politics-as-usual; certainly it could be argued that those of us in vitro would seem to have more of a stake in one side of the high-pitched politics than more sophomoric efforts to eradicate the social conditions that prompt certain procedures in the first place. But it seems quite another when one issue is enough to cause even Reformed believers to hit the paused button on their own ecclesiology, undo the Spirituality of the Church and join Romanists in what is effectually bullying. But if an abolitionist-like clout is what so many are after (see John Piper’s When Abortion is Racism), a more careful peering into Old School Presbyterian history reveals that true piety didn’t imply one moralized politics another over. If something like Evangelicals and Catholics Together is misguided from a confessionally Reformed viewpoint, it seems equally unclear as to why any amongst us should sympathize with someone like Archbishop Chaput.

Según Microsoft, es una gran característica que nos ayuda a darnos cuenta de los sentimientos internos de la pc, que tan a menudo pasamos por alto.

El toque de cultura instrumental desapareció despues del Y2K. Oops! digo, del W2K.

さて、個人的にここで問題となるのが少し前に「Think Client」として購入していたASUS EeePC 4G。

現状では、わずか4GBのストレージの英語版Linux機という、使い勝手の悪さばかりが目に付く。
私はそもそも「Linuxを使い慣れている」というには程遠いレベルで、アプリ追加一つ取っても「どうすりゃいいの？？？」という状態。勉強するという選択肢もあるけれど今更Linuxを覚えても・・・正直、あまり得るものがあるとは思えない。

#900シリーズのEeePCが発売され、今となっては、型遅れの並行輸入マシン。リセールバリューもない。

しかしUSBポートは3つもあるし、SDHCスロットもある。有線／無線LANも使え、ほぼA5サイズで軽量コンパクト。意外にもガッシリした作りで衝撃に強いSSD仕様なのでバッグに入れて持ち歩くにも不安が無い。コイツがもし、使い慣れたWindowsマシンだったなら、デスクトップマシンやiPhoneと違った用途で使えるだろうに・・・やっぱりXP仕様にしとけば良かったかなぁ・・・（＾＾；）

と、ここで思いついたのが「手持ちのWindows2000proを入れてみよう」という案。自作PCを組んでいた頃のOEM版を持っていたことを思い出したのだ。Windows2000なら（XPよりは）軽量だし、4GBあれば十分インストール可能なはずだ。

早速トライしてみた。

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【インストール】

BIOSでUSBドライブからのブートを最優先設定にし、手持ちのW2KインストールCDで起動。

しかし・・・

だめだ。

私が持っていたWindows2000のDiskはかなり初期のもの（SP1OEM）なので、内蔵のSSDを認識できないらしい。

ううむ・・・。

そこで、「後期SP適用済みインストールCD」を作ることにした。

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【Disk作成】

（参考にしたサイト）
・http://www5b.biglobe.ne.jp/~oh_lavie/etc/spboot.htm
・http://www.huonpine.net/win2k/sp3_cdr.html

・・・なんだかメンドクサそう。（＾＾；）

ところが「SP+メーカー」という便利そうなフリーソフトを見つけた。

http://www.ak-office.jp/software/winsppm.html

SPやダウンロードからISOイメージの作成、CD-R/RWメディアへのライティングまでをこのアプリ一つでできるという。hotfixまで拾ってきて「適用済みDisk」を作れる優れものだが、今回はSP4のみ適用し、hotfixは見送った。（理由はサイズ。Windowsのhotfixはべらぼうな量があるので、全部入れるとCDに収まりきらなくなるんじゃないかと心配で。ブートDVDにしてしまうという手はあるが、hotfixはどーせ後でWindows Updateで反映できるので、今回は最小構成とした）

「ヘルプ」を見ながら手順を追っていくだけで、SP4適用済みWindows2000のインストール・ディスクが焼きあがった。

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【再インストール】

SSDは無事認識され、無事インストール開始。

しかし・・・・（またかい）

インストール後、SSDからの再起動で「NTLDR is missing」と表示され、失敗。ブートローダーが上手く動かないみたいだ。

ネットでいろいろ調べると、このエラーはかなり厄介なものらしい。

うーむ。

「SP3で作り直して試してみるか？」　とか、
「CDライティングソフトを変えてみようかなぁ・・・」

・・・と、ここのところで、数日悩む羽目になった。（＾＾；）

そしてふと、気になる点を思い出した。

インストール時に「どの領域に入れる？」と訊かれる場面があるが、標準の状態では、3つの領域が示されていた。正確には 記憶が無いが、1.4GBくらいのエリアと、2.3GBくらいのエリア、そして「BIOS」と表示される8MBのエリア。

「BIOSは、消しちゃまずいよなぁ。大したサイズじゃないし・・・」と、これを避け、2つの大きめエリアへのインストールを一つずつ試し、2つとも領域開放して3.6GBくらいの大きめのエリアを確保したり、フォーマットもNTFS、FAT32とも試したが、何れもErrorとなっていた。

・・・・・・・・・・・・ん？

Windowsのインストーラーから見えるBIOS領域って・・・なんだそりゃ？
そんなもの今まで見た記憶はないぞ？　そんなもの、見えていいはずがないだろ？
本当にBIOSなのか？

・・・・・・・・ええい、消しちまえっ！　（半分やけっぱち／笑）

一瞬躊躇したものの、この怪しげな8MBの領域も全部開放し、最大領域を確保してNTFSでフォーマット、再度インストールしてみたら、あっさりWindows2000が立ち上がった。状況から考えれば、たぶん、ブートエリアに何か（LILOみたいな奴？）が変なモードで居座っていて、Winsowsの起動を邪魔していたのだろう。
詳しくは分からないけれど、クリアできたからいいや。

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【デバイスドライバー問題】

いくらSP4適用状態でのインストールとはいえ、SP4は2003年頃のリリース。EeePCで使用している新しいデバイス類は知らないものの方が多いはず。しかし、ドライバー類はASUSのサイトから「XP用」を拾ってくればいい。
案外知られていないみたいだが、WindowsXPとWindows2000は基本部分は殆ど同じものなので、例えばXP用のドライバーやアプリケーションはかなりの高確率でWindows2000でも動く。

この時点ではまだネットワーク接続ができていない状態なので、デスクトップマシンでファイルをダウンロードし、SDカード経由でEeePCで展開・・・という手段で、デバイスドライバーは一通りインストールできた。
（ただしWebカメラはダメみたい。まぁこれは使わないから全然構わないんだけど）

少し困ったのが無線LANのクライアント・アプリケーション。ASUSのサイトから持ってきたファイルにもクライアントアプリは入っていたが、我が家のAPには何故か繋がらない。
そこでこのクライアントアプリを一旦アン・インストール。（注：当たり前だがデバイスドライバーは削除してはダメ）
我が家のAPはAirStation（BUFFALO製）なので、BUFFALOのサイトから「クライアントマネージャー3」をダウンロード、EeePCにインストールしたところ、アッサリ接続できた。

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【Windows Update問題】

ネットワークに繋ぐのでまずアンチ・ウィルス・ソフトを入れ最新化。
その後、Windows Udate。

しかし・・・・・（今度は何だよ）

「このコンピュータに該当する最新の更新プログラムを確認しています...」という画面が止まらない、終わらない。このプロセスが長くなることは間々あるが、何分も、何十分も終わらないのは明らかに異常。Microsoft Updateを使ってみても症状は変わらない。

「ブラウザだけでも新しくしてみるか」と、IE6 SP1を入れてみたところ、あっさりWindows Updateが先へ進んだ。原因はWindows2000標準のブラウザ「IE5」だった。古すぎたようだ。
しかし、これはWindows Updateサイトの問題と言うべきだろう。IE5がいくら古いとはいっても、MSの正規ブラウザなのだし、そのブラウザが繋ぎに来ても、ダメなら警告を出して弾き、「どうすればいいか」を指南すべきであって、プロセスが稼動しているかのように表示する（しかも終わらない）振る舞いは、おかしい）

（やれやれ）

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【とりあえず】

インストールCDからのインストール終了時点では使用量は約900MB、空き容量も3GB近くあり、「余裕じゃん」と思っていたのに、Windows Updateの高速インストール（重要アップデートだけ）を行っただけで、SSDの使用量は約2.15GBに肥大、空き容量は約1.56GBに狭まっていた。不具合を直すのに、ただパッチを当て続けるだけで、ひたすら肥大し、重くなっていくことしかしないMS社製OSの「ブザマさ」を目の当たりにした感じだ。もっと大容量のストレージだったらさして気にもならなかっただろうと思うけれど・・・それでもまあ、このサイズで収まっているのはWindows2000だからこそ、とは言える。

（つづく？）

One of the books that kept me company on vacation was Hart's Seeking A Better Country. On page 223 he briefly delineates what the doctrine of the spirituality of the church (what some might call the Reformed version of Lutheran two-kingdom doctrine) is according to the Old School line of thought:

“Among the most significant features of the southern version of the Old School was its emphasis on the spirituality of the church. Championed by James H. Thornwell, the doctrine would outlive his death in 1862. Southern Presbyterians saw the church's task as preaching the gospel, trusting that the Holy Spirit would regenerate sinners by His Word and build them up in Christ. The church was not commissioned to make the world a better place in which to live. It had no business telling the government how to rule the body politic. It was not to feed the hungry, or provide houses for the homeless, or protest social injustice. These political and social temptations only distracted the church from its spiritual calling.” 

If we take the SOTC seriously it would seem that the church is an equal-opportunity killjoy when it comes to one cause or another, regardless of whatever shades of blue and red they come in. But survey the circles of those would likely call themselves conservative religionists who might jump at the sound of “Old School,” and one wonders just how to reconcile that with PCA and OPC circles forging General Assembly declarations against abortion, homosexual marriage and women in the military.

Lest we become too perplexed, we seem to come by this apparent contradiction honestly enough. A few pages later Hart also briefly sketches the debate that centered around one Professor James Woodrow (1828-1907) who, despite his earlier opposition to evolution, came to embrace the theory calling it “mediate creation.” What's more compelling here than the popular center-ring of human ancestry that questions of evolution always seem to devolve into is the meta-narrative that has implications for ecclesiastical mission:

“Throughout the course of the investigation of his views, many of the charges against Woodrow entailed ecclesiastical pronouncements about scientific theory. That those pronouncements themselves violated the spirituality of the church was an inconsistency not lost among Woodrow's supporters. Nor for that matter did observers in the North overlook the irony of a chair of natural science at a southern Presbyterian seminary.” (Italics mine.)

It seems that being distracted by the cares of this world have afflicted even those who would readily identify themselves with “Old School.” But take heart. Referring to the cares of conservative Presbyterians who seem more conservative than Presbyterian, marked more by a particular ideology than theology as they strive to help make sure Adam and Steve remain permanently single and that Jane mayn't fly fighter jets, Hart suggests a remnant might still abide:

“Silenced in the noise of the debate was the voice of Presbyterian restraint that opted for conscientious objection from enlistment in the culture wars.”

Growing up in a broadly secular environment I was never very political. So it was always very odd to me upon conversion and subsequent entrance into the religious world that specific political affiliation and devotion were very much assumed. At first blush I took my ambivalence to be a function of simply being new. Though I was branded this thing called a “seeker” and thereby entitled to more or less dictate to the church what ought to be important, I was never really convinced that this form of feigned hospitality was on the up-and-up; my own disposition was that, basically, I had something to learn and submit to. Even so, when it came to this affinity between religious conviction and political conclusion I still was never clear on what one thing had to do with another. But all of a sudden, amongst a host of other oddities and whatever else gave me pause, I was supposed to have a very specific opinion about abortion legislation. A proverbial protest sign was forced into my hands. If it was confusing, that was all right, because everyone was more than willing to point out just why true piety takes the cues of the pro-life movement. That was Bible-church Fundamentalism and broad Evangelicalism. And not much appreciably changed when I moved into more Reformed environs.

But I must say that the more I go on not only do I still see no direct connection generally between true religion and a certain conclusion over this legislative issue, but I also strongly question what exactly it is in orthodox Calvinism that should have sympathy to something like the pro-life movement. I can see all sorts of other Christian traditions—from Methodist and Roman Catholic ecclesiologies, to a screechy Fundamentalism or a sunny Evangelicalism—taking marching orders from this particular brand of moralistic activism. But Calvinism? Really? What stake does old-school Calvinism have in a movement that is built on the cornerstone of basic human innocence? Indeed, what stake does churchliness have in a “movement” at all? I understand how a Reformed orthodoxy squirms when it comes to the basic tenants of personal autonomy and individualism which result in one segment of the human population having complete sway over the life and death of another. (And I'll leave alone the fact that plenty of other sacred and secular systems squirm as well over that, making the direct interests of Calvinism less exclusive.) But, conversely, what interest does a robust Augustinian-Calvinism have in the idea that one class of human beings has some supreme entitlement to circumvent, at virtually any and all costs, the pains and injuries of life that the rest don't, up to and including death itself? And why would it be that a conservative Calvinism couldn’t sooner be able to endure whatever public policy imperfections exist and actually be more reluctant to uncritically get in line and walk lock-step with a movement that has resident within it all these problems? And, besides, aren’t Calvinists supposed to be suspect of conventicle-esque brigades that appeal to everything from the Sawdust Trail to Rome to Constantinople?

However irrelevant Calvinism might be to anything located in the pro-life movement, I wonder if Two Kingdoms doctrine might be relevant. By “relevant,” of course, I mean that which would be more counter-intuitive than intuitive. As long as Christian religionists think “something has to be said” about this issue, I wonder if one could, in good Two Kingdom fashion, make a suggestion to fellow religionists who want so desperately to be associated with what they believe to be the more biblical point of view.

An Outhouse saint once asked another one to sum up the Christian life in one word. The answer: “Submit.” If he’s right, it seems to suggest that the more controlling biblical categories are those of authority and jurisdiction. In contrast, the primary categories most Christian religionists use when it comes to this issue are morality and ethics, and perhaps secondarily those of authority and jurisdiction (e.g. “abortion is immoral; the federal magistrate must use his power to criminalize it”).

If contemporary Two Kingdom doctrine is really a project in jurisprudence, concerned with the nature of and relationship between the kingdoms of God and man, instead of ethics perhaps jurisdiction should be the category employed when it comes to this weary-worn topic called “abortion” in contemporary American legislative politics. If so, instead of asking “May she or mayn't she?” perhaps we do better to ask “Who gets to decide?” Maybe instead of asking whether something may or mayn’t happen the biblical answer has more to do with who gets to make the decision, and why, and how.

While I am quite stupid I'm also not all that dumb. I know the risks involved here. I fully realize that this whole debate is a casualty of a moralized politics and politicized religion, and as such a conversation doomed from the beginning; so fraught, it's fallen into the ranks of such impolite conversation that got Elaine and Jerry banned from Poppie's eatery. And the moralists who predominate both sides of this issue aren't about to give heed to a suggestion that would open the door for their moralities to be violated. And the “she mayn’t” lobby is going to see their plight realized well before anyone seriously entertains anything close to my suggestion; and I know that the pro-life movement has a politically-correct grip on even the most Calvinist of Presbyterians that stifles more honest thinking. And the suggestion is even to risk the charge of an inconsistent Two Kingdom view insofar as it implies that we “have something to say,” the counter-intuitive point above notwithstanding. But if the wider world of conservative religionists is as serious about what true religion has to say to this issue as they seem to be, the suggestion is worth consideration.

If not, that is all right, too. The same Two Kingdom doctrine that informs such a suggestion is the same one that tells me things don’t always go the way one thinks they should and makes for a terrible moralism and even worse activism. And if nothing else, the golden rule also seems useful: Remembering what it was like to be forced into the picket lines, it seems a bit impious to do the same here.

From his article “The Two Kingdoms Doctrine and the Relationship of Church and State in the Early Reformed Tradition,” reprinted from the Journal of Church and State, David VanDrunen concludes:

“One suggestion is proposed for how a retrieval of the older Reformed two kingdoms tradition (without its inconsistent attribution of religious responsibilities to civil magistrates) may contribute to contemporary discussions. A number of influential schools of thought among contemporary Christian theologians take a decidedly negative view of the concept of the 'secular,' identifying it with an Enlightenment quest for autonomy, moral fragmentation, and the exclusion of religious discourse from the public square. In its place, they call for a specifically Christian approach to, and account of, the social realm. The Reformed two kingdoms tradition may provide theological reasons for believing that there are not just two alternatives, a secular social order that is amoral, anti-religious, individualistic, and grounded in autonomous reason, on the one hand, and a Christian social order that is moral, religious, communitarian, and grounded in orthodox theology on the other. The older Reformed idea of the civil kingdom suggests that a theologically rich Christian account of a secular realm is possible. Working from a two kingdoms doctrine, one might posit that there is a 'secular' realm (in its etymological sense of concerning 'this age'), a common space shared by all human beings despite religious differences. Yet this secular realm need not be dismissed as anti-religious or immoral, for God is creator and sustainer of the civil kingdom and governs it by the law of nature. From this perspective, attempts to engage in common, non-religiously exclusive public discourse do not betray Christian truth but an endeavor that a rich theological account of reality suggests is a possibility and even a responsibility.”

It seems to me that when one has the false dichotomy such as the two alternatives VanDrunen suggests—a “secular” realm teeming with amorality and irreligiousness over against true religionists who have all the answers in the bag—it is little wonder there is such a vigorous reaction to Two Kingdoms doctrine. After all, who wants chaos and amorality? Indeed, even the worst imagined atheist the typical theonomist conjures up in his frightened head to make his case will actually turn out to have some code of right and wrong. He may even apply it better than the religionist.

What bothers those who don't like the idea of natural law, the common sphere, the secular realm and all the other things in the 2K goody box is this: if left to our own powers to understand and apply the natural law, it might be that someone, somewhere out there in the big, bad world might actually disagree or get it flat wrong, and the day might be lost on one thing or another. To boot, we might as believers actually (gasp!)disagree with each other over a temporal matter. And this is just plain intolerable. So intolerable that the “God-glass” must be broken and the Most High taken captive for one side or another.

What theonomists of all stripes fail to grasp is that they actually live with this reality each and every day. Mercifully, like Baptists who don't actually treat their children like little pagans, theonomists don't behave as ghastly as their system demands. They actually live a lot like Two Kingdomites. They follow laws and submit to authorities they are not all that convinced of, and they participate in a wider world not exactly persuaded as they are on every jot and tittle. In short, they live as if they were actually pilgrims without a home and not so much like Israelites conquering Canaanites. Maybe in their own minds they are waging such wars, but that doesn't count since God calls us even out of that fantasy factory.

In the end, it seems to me that those who shudder at the idea that God is indeed creator and sustainer of all things and governs them by natural law, and instead want the Bible pulled out to rule general society, ironically seem to reveal less faith in God, not more. Like yesteryear’s Pharisees who literally tied the law to their arms and foreheads or today’s Bible-toters who both seem to need to prove their faith to God, others and themselves, theonomists seem to demonstrate a similar sort of desperation. Whatever else informs it, the pathology of theonomy seems to be a function of old-fashioned unbelief.

I remain insufferably on a friend's email forward list. It appears her own recent global email to everyone who has ever forwarded her chain emails promising prosperity to knock it off (“since none of that 'hilariously-fitting-expletive' worked!”) doesn’t include her. I still get lame jokes and pictures, head's up on viruses that never come to bear and generally useless data that sounds awfully close to what the “Federal Bureau of Miscellaneous Information” passes along to David Letterman for his “Fun Facts” routine. But the forward that included Ben Stein's drivel about Christmas caught me not only a bit bored but grumpy. I couldn't resist and indicated back to her my disdain for Stein's cultural religion and kulturekampf. Probably a bit broadsided since I don't normally respond, and since my sunny friend only ever intends to evoke sunniness, she took it in stride, like a champ. But it got worse. In the course of our exchange she admitted she had no idea who Stein was. I couldn't decide which was worse: Stein's plea for an obnoxious civil religion propped up with a nationalistic version of works-righteousness that even Reformed Christians seem to gobble up or that a fellow GenXer didn't know who Ferris Bueller’s teacher is. It gets worse. In the course of making my point I made reference to Jerry Falwell. She had even less an idea who he was—more 80s nescience. I'm a fan of friendship, so I have decided to channel my angst another way, speaking of Stein and Falwell...

I have noted before how American religionists seem to fail to make any real distinction between proximate and exact justice. One of the predictable results of such a failure seems to be the tendency to be quite smitten with the latter. It seems only natural. After all, it is in our nature to fulfill law. We weren’t made for a proximate justice but an exact one. So when failing to make this important distinction it should be no surprise we default to that which we were made. Poke around long enough, and it won't take very long to find one plight or another for exact justice to greater or lesser degrees in our friend. And plight, of course, relies on locating perceived culprits and victims. One tell-tale sign that we are trafficking in plight, and thereby exact justice, is when there are clearly depicted villains and virginals.

Like the child yanking on her younger sister’s arm who swears she is only trying to help, one of the added wrinkles is how one seems ever tempted to simply fix the problem by justifying it under another name. So taken with the stuff of plight, the ability to honestly examine one’s motives becomes quite obscured. Thus, for example, the group-think fixation on that legislative sacred cow called “abortion” isn’t so much an effort to exact justice, complete with culprits and victims; and it certainly isn’t vulnerable to any measure of genuine critique (group-think seldom is in the minds of its members) that might reveal the ironical absence of any notion of jurisdiction, both explicit and implicit. No, it’s just “trying to see to it that the right thing happens.” But such a proximate countenance doesn’t go very far in explaining the vicissitude which usually attends this debate. In another proof of plight, compromise is anathema. And if it were so nuanced then why is it the pinnacle politics for which conservative religionists want to go down in history and be culturally vindicated the way, say, abolitionists have? Better, why is it thought such a category should even exist amongst conservative Calvinists, let alone what fills it?

It may be good to remember that large part of what made the Cross so shameful was that crucifixion was the vehicle by which Rome carried out an exact justice. Contrary to the way a religiously fueled anachronism would have it, you didn’t hang on a Tree because Rome was in the habit of arbitrary persecution, but rather because you belonged there. (With this understanding, the Calvinist doctrine of sin makes more sense: our sin is fantastically real, demanding and deserving the exact justice of God; it belongs on the Cross. While better suited for teasing out culprits and victims, the template of “religious persecution” still doesn’t really know what to do with sin.) At least one of thieves who joined Jesus understood that much, and paradise became his that day. It doesn’t help stir a particular sense of martyrdom, but Rome had a system of justice that comported within a larger civilization I daresay many of us would find fairly attractive, which is to say, Rome was safe and prosperous. Reaching back into the Old Testament, is it any wonder that the Hebrews wanted to return to Egypt where even slaves could locate something of “the good life”? Whatever else the Code of Hammurabi’s co-existence with the Decalogue might entail it’s that the sturdiness of law is certainly not something unknown to man. Moreover, it is good for ordering things with an eye toward milk and honey.

But in the end, if there wasn’t much from Jesus that makes the case against Rome there also wasn’t much to be made for it. When queried about his status as King all he says is that it’s true. There is no “therefore” followed with a laundry list of corrections to be made. But neither are there any plaudits for how well the empire has been run all this time, what with evildoers being swiftly punished and all. There are no politics of either dissent or affirmation. Indeed, in keeping with his answer about taxes meant to make him stumble and show one sort of favoritism or another wherein submission is finally rendered, Jesus stands silent before the chief priests, elders and Pilate himself.

Justice certainly has its place. The question seems to be just where that place is. While it may be hard to swallow for those who otherwise take Modernity to task for its sense of morality and ethics, if it is justice Christian religionists want to be known for we might do better to remember that obedience, silence and submission are the traits that saved us in the face of an exacting jurisprudence. Insofar as the Kingdom of God was marked by this ethos, while the kingdom of man had exact justice in mind, it is worth pondering how these more heavenly traits might co-exist with a sense of justice. It might be that if we want to do justice at all that a proximate one should suffice. For all the talk of the antithesis between “godly” and “worldly” ethics that tend to look more moralistic and virtuous than revelatory and eschatological, it would seem that a godly posture might find plight a bit too erect.

I am continuing to enjoy Muether's Cornelius Van Til: Reformed Apologist and Churchman.

As its heading implies (Through the Fires of Criticism) Chapter Six takes up the various controversies Van Til found himself in. Again, one such problem centered on the theme of education. In a 1952 public debate with Reformed Bible Institute’s William Masselink he was repeatedly charged with denying common grace. Frustrated, Van Til retorted that in order to make the charge stick, “one might as well blow up the science building with an atom bomb!” It was cause for shock and awe on the part of his hearers and great regret on his.

Though, for fear of making matters worse, reluctant to try and publicly clarify the remarks he admitted were at once crass but “absolutely true,” he did try to balance the “absolute antithesis” with the doctrine of common grace. On pages 167-68 Muether quotes Van Til at length from an essay entitled “Antithesis in Education” (441). At the risk of taking him out of context, I won't provide the whole quote but rather just that part which caught my attention (I can provide the whole thing if anyone wishes):

“Now the fact that two times two are four does not mean the same thing to you as a believer and to someone else as an unbeliever. When you think of two times two as four, you connect this fact with numerical law. And when you connect this fact with numerical law, you must connect numerical law with all law. The question you face, then, is whether law exists in its own right or is an expression of the will and nature of God. Thus the fact that two times two are four enables you to implicate yourself more deeply into the nature and will of God. On the other hand, when an unbeliever says that two times two are four, he will also be led to connect this fact with the whole idea of law; but he will regard this law as independent of God. Thus the fact that two times two are four enables him, so he thinks, to get farther away from God. That fact will place the unbeliever before a whole sea of open possibilities in which he may seek to realize his life away from God. And it is this basic difference between what 'two times two are four' means to the believer and what it means to the unbeliever that the doctrine of common grace has helped us to see. It has enabled us to focus our attention upon the antithesis without fearing that we are doing injustice to any of the facts that surround us.”

Though he wants to maintain the “absolute antithesis,” I still find myself asking a host of questions. There seem to be assumptions about the unbeliever here that give pause. Why is it assumed that the unbeliever “will regard this law [that two and two are four] as independent of God...that...enables him...to move farther away from God”?

Maybe some of this turns on what is meant by “unbeliever.” To my mind, the term is a maximal one that is more or less short hand for John 14:6. The unbeliever is he who does not know the narrow way of Christ, be he deist or not. Van Til seems to have in mind, I gather, a very particular unbeliever called the atheist whose only known system can be the sort of autonomy to which he alludes. But while all atheists are unbelievers, not all unbelievers are atheists. Certain kinds of deists are unbelievers: Muslims, Mormons, Hindi. Granted, they finally confess a false god. But whatever else that means, I can neither fathom these deists denying two and two are four, nor that the numerical law is in any way “independent of God” so that he might be enabled “to get further away from God.” What keeps the larger number of false deists away from God doesn't seem to be something like, “Two and two are four and that law flows from God,” so much as it is the wrong answer to “Who do you say I am?” Since law and its antecedent is something we all have access to in our common creation, even false deism can get the former right.

More interestingly to me, does Van Til mean to imply that law gets us closer to God? If we understand by “antithesis” that there is absolutely nothing in creation, from numerical law (“two and two are four”) to moral law (“Love God and neighbor”) that brings us one iota closer to God but in fact keeps us away; if we understand that gospel is utterly alien to our natural creation; if we understand that the law is powerless to save; then is it being implied here that law, numerical or otherwise, somehow does bring us closer to God than not? If he who acknowledges with us that the numerical law is rooted in God also denies Jesus Christ, then it would seem he has gotten no closer to God simply because he acknowledges that numerical and moral law are authored by God.

I have to say, I don't really see how the “absolute antithesis” is being served here if we are implying that anything other than grace alone, which is to say law, brings us closer to God. In point of fact, law is exactly what keeps us alienated from God. There are fantastic volumes upon volumes believers and unbelievers can agree on since we all have equal access to that which falls under law. But unless and until grace radically solves the absolute antithesis, we are, so to speak, as worlds apart as two creatures can possibly regardless of how much law we both acknowledge or even ascribe back to God. If the Way is really as narrow as Jesus says it is, and if (as the theology of the Cross teaches) God reveals Himself by hiding, then it would seem that what distinguishes believer from non- not only maximizes what they have in common but makes that same antithesis at once imperceptible by sight yet, well, absolute and only perceptible by faith. In other words, it is very hard to tell us apart. Why does seem suggested here that any use of law is what will finally reveal who is who?

While Reformed triadalism relies on intersecting circles akin to the classic Venn Diagram to describe both the natures of and relationships between the spheres of the blessed, damned and common, the distinct duality of Van Til's simple circles intends to convey the Reformed doctrine of the Creator-creature distinction.

If Muether's biography is any measure, Van Til was very concerned for this distinction. Known for his complex prose, one of Van Til's simpler approaches in the classroom was when it came to this topic. He simply drew two circles, one suspended above the other. The top circle is God, the bottom representing man. Two vertical lines from the one to the other indicated the creature's covenantal standing before God.  In this way, Van Til formulated that as God's image bearer man indeed has a creaturely and analogical similarity to God in his being and knowledge, but their identities are denied at every point. While in some analogical sense similar, God and man are as different as two things could ever be, and ne'er the twain shall meet.

The distinction was basic in his contentious dealings with Barth, who, he claimed, followed Kantian philosophy in rejecting a biblical account of creation and destroyed the Creator-creature distinction. In contrast to Barth's “New Modernism,” Calvinism was “the most consistent expression of Protestantism.” A proper assessment of creation and Calvinism went hand-in-hand. “In Protestantism man is really taken to be the creature of God [and the Protestant] builds his system squarely upon the Creator-creature distinction.”

This distinction was vital in his contentions with Gordon Clark when Clark published a paper in the Westminster Theological Journal entitled, “On the Primacy of the Intellect.” As is implied by the title, Van Til summed up Clark's argument by saying it was more in keeping with pagan understanding than Christian and comported under the more Socratic aphorism that “knowledge is virtue.” Certainly willing to affirm the intellect's place of priority in faith, and doubtless a champion of putting away the enthusiastic notion of faith as being a mere act of emotional animation, Van Til was yet fearful of putting the accent on the mere assent to doctrine. To do so was to build on the more modern and mechanical notion of faith and move away from the more organic and biblical conception of faith, since the latter understands the Bible to shape not only what one knows but also how one both loves and behaves. No, said Van Til, the intellect is no less fallen than any other human facility. He maintained that Clark's argument not only let the intellect out from under the weight of total depravity but thereby became a faculty by which man and God were no longer distinct; man could know God by his mind, not faith. As Muether puts it, “Gordon Clark, intolerant of any notion of mystery, committed the error of allowing the circles to touch,” and this simply could not abide with Van Til.

It is interesting to consider how this classical Reformed doctrine of the Creator-creature distinction might come to bear on contemporary discussions concerning the relationship between ideology and theology, cult and culture, politics and faith. It seems to me that while many would maintain in theory the Creator-creature distinction, in application it doesn't always seem to follow. Something seems lost in translation. While one may conceive of passing marks in a given ordination examination, it isn't always clear how any of it is comporting on those who would have us believe specific social or economic policy of one sort or another is the logical result of Christianity. Both prudence and generosity are biblical ethics, but how that implies the Bible teaches either higher or lower taxes seems like quite a tortured game of dot-to-dot. If Acts 2:42-47 doesn't give heavenly sanction to socialism it is equally unclear what Psalm 139:13-16 has to do with Supreme Court legislation of 1973. It would seem that to try and force one scheme over against another might be an exercise in ultimately finding an intersection between Van Til's circles, only this time with ideology instead of intellect.

In the recent spate of popularity over under-dog Ron Paul and Libertarianism in Reformed circles, I recall one saying, I suspect this is one reason why I find libertarian economic theory to be quite compatible with my Calvinistic-amillennial eschatology.” If, as Van Til charged Clark to do, we cannot meet up with God in our intellect, what makes us think any ideological system is friendlier or less hostile to true religion insofar as the latter is the doctrine of God? It would seem to me that this might be how we got to the rather odd place we are now in American religion, where we thought some set of economic, social or political theory was “conducive to our shared religious confession.” It is not out of the realm of likelihood that such utterances have been made down through American history ever since Witherspoon landed. But if, as the best of the Reformed tradition teaches, the Host of heaven really is as utterly distinct and transcendent of human ways as He says He is (Isa. 55:8-9; Dt. 29:29; 1 Cor. 2:10-16; Ro. 2:11; Acts 10:34), it does not immediately follow at all that any tradition of men is any closer to God's ways than any other. If God really is mysterious and is no respecter of men then He cannot be on anyone's side. Whether it is by way of emotion, intellect, experience, reason or ideology, to try and intersect the circles is a function of human fantasy, whether sacred or secular.

The fact that cfix has not provided support for Windows 2000 was thus unfortunate -- after all, if Windows 2000 is among the target platforms of your software, you should be able to run your tests on this platform.

cfix 1.0.1 remedies this shortcoming and adds Windows 2000 i386 SP4 as an supported platform.

The updated packages are available for download on Sourceforge.

Unfortunately I took the bait and attempted a dialog. In return I recieved more gratuitious assertions, strawman arguments, and ad hominem attacks. Finally, I made assertions regarding what I believe concerning the nature of the two kingdoms and the Church's role in them. Responding to this, this pastor pulled my post and hacked it apart so as to take my words out of context and do more grandstanding to show just how totally right he is for being a thenomist and how ludicrous my thinking on 2Kt is. He was even so kind as to make more assertions... this time telling me (or more correctly, those who read his blog) what I believe (which I can understand since much of my original post, that which contained my own assertions of belief, was removed or 'reorganized'). To add insult to injury, he assured his audience that he does not care to support his claims concerning the connection between 2Kt and gnosticism.

Interestingly enough, several days ago there was a post concerning the political grandstanding and underhandedness of the Obama campaign. This being the culture a Theonomist would care to redeem, one must wonder exactly what that redemption will look like in that great millenium of political victory when ministers like this one rule the world 'by the power of the Holy Spirit'. His concern, it was suggested in response to some of my comments, was the third use of the Law. I care not for it, he said, but he wants to see its fruits.

Of course those who subscribe to a 2Kt believe in the third use of the Law, and I pointed this out (that was one of those points he didn't see fit to publish on his site). Furthermore, I am in awe of the ironic state of affairs in which this pastor finds himself; on the one hand he argues for application of the Law to the culture at large, and yet he violates it in his argumentation of that very point.

I do not believe it would be right for me to direct y'all to this site, nor do I think I ought to give his name. But there is a lesson to be learned here, and it is my hobby horse: everybody has a system. We've all thought this stuff through and I have no doubt that many who disagree with me are bright, intelligent, well-intending souls. They are just wrong. On the other hand, I'm happy to go toe-to-toe with those with whom I disagree knowing that I'll either be strengthened in my belief or be corrected where I err. This, of course, requires argumentation that is soundly logical and respectful. We can debate and discuss with attention to one another's presuppotions therein, but I stop when I feel the need to call names, mischaracterize, or call into question the salvation of those with whom I disagree (at least those who are presumably in the Church).

It would seem to me that given my disappointment with the rancor and putrid state of affairs in the realm of politics (though it doesn't surprise me, it is politics after all) that I as a Christian could possibly (attempt to) set an example to the world. Must we always agree? Absolutely not. I love to argue. Should we attack (percieved) inconsistencies in the ideas of others? I hope so. Should we attack one another as stupid, as "against the Kingdom of God" or practice illegitimate forms of debate such as those cited above? Lets not.

Whether we all agree on 2Kt, Calvinism, Covenantalism (or what have you) or not, we agree that the saints of God ought to conduct themselves in a way that reflects the application of the redemption which God has accomplished through Christ on the cross. This board has gotten heated at times as these topics are likely to do, and we've had brothers correct brothers and get corrected back and so on, but we have stayed away from the sort of political grandstanding that I witnessed recently.

And that is exactly what it was. Political grandstanding for an audience. Why do I subscribe to 2Kt? Because ministers ought not attempt to utilize the tools of the kingdom of men such as mischaracterization, slander, and blantant dishonesty to further our Lord's Kingdom. The Lord will bring in an innumberable harvest in the elect, but He will do so by His appointed means. We do Him no favors when we privelege cultural transformation over seeing to the faithful execution of those means. They're weak in the eyes of men and even those in our own reformed camp sometimes sound as though they believe them inadequate to the task, but they're all we've got. 

May God's kingdom come, may His will be done on earth as it is in Heaven... because of the preaching of the Gospel, the right administration of the sacraments, and the discipline of the Church.

Come Lord Jesus,

EFWakeman

But I'll see that controversy and raise an eyebrow.

In his book A Secular Faith, Darryl Hart concludes his running argument that Christianity really is just as interested in the commonality of all created humanity as it is in a rigorous orthodoxy by making reference to Daniel's education:

“It is the account of the Jewish prophet who learned the literature and wisdom of the Chaldeans and excelled in it to such a degree that he emerged as the wisest of the pagan king’s counselors. This learning was not simply the liberal arts, as John Calvin tried to explain it, but a language and literature that was infused with false and idolatrous ideas and beliefs, from the perspective of Israel’s cult. Just as for the Jewish people, throughout the ancient Near East cult and culture were so thoroughly intertwined that to learn a foreign language and literature was in some important sense an entrance into the religious beliefs of a different God…The fuller account of Daniel, then, the one before and outside the lion’s den, is of a man who had assimilated the ways, culture, and customs of a nation whose religion was false from the perspective of the Jewish people.”

In many instances two-kingdom doctrine seems to grind to a screeching halt when it comes to matters of education. Those who would otherwise contend that Christianity has no direct bearing on or obvious implication for matters common still seem to draw the line at the school house doors. Nose around long enough in the literature of a church which maintains that true religion—to the chagrin of David Kuo—ought not to be in the business of faith-based  initiatives and one will invariably trip across equally vigorous dogma charging believing parents to the moral (yes, moral) duties of so-called Christian education. Dissenters beware—invoking liberty here seems to suggest immorality. But if Christianity has nothing to say about the making and maintaining of culture generally, it can't possibly have anything to say about education specifically. 

It is understandable why this may be the last frontier even amongst two-kingdomites.  It is one thing to discuss categories that feel impersonalized or don't seem to immediately affect us, like politics. But we can't get any more immediate than children, those in whom we find caught up all our beliefs, values, aspirations, hopes and confidences. As parents we are duty-bound for their nurture and protection. Indeed, they are members of the covenant, and promises have been made to them. Yet, true as that may be, none of it seems to make up for the fact that the only thing needed for any common endeavor is natural law.

Could it be that the more immediate and delicate a thing is the more inclined we may be to pull the trigger on the conflation of law and gospel? Could it be that the more indelible a project the more tempted we are to forget that the only institution ordained to make human beings, for better or ill, is the family—not the media, not the state, not the church and not the school? When such a high view of the home is brokered to others simply because they have our children eight hours a day, it is easy to see how education remains the third rail even amongst those who would champion the notion of an expansive common sphere.

But if we want to be cautious to not over-realize what certain created institutions can yield, it is not immediately obvious why education should be given a pass. If politics, for all its potency and inherent power, can't save the world but can only imperfectly regulate and maintain a proximate justice, then education, for all its influence and effect, cannot shape and create human beings. Just as the salvation of the world comes by the hand of God alone, it would seem that the making of human beings comes only by those whom he has ordained for such work. This seems to suggest that the moral imperative on Christian parents may be less to cut checks to parochial educators and more on them to perform their created and redemptive duties. Maybe where their children are educated is much more open to liberty while their parental charges become more strident.

He makes the point that when Christian believers find themselves on the bivouac in God's world they should consider the church scene, perhaps even declining certain moves if the landscape is wanting:

“This also means that members should take care of their souls when they change employment or move house. Frequently it seems to be that economic considerations trump the spiritual so that Christians find themselves in a place with no congregation and no means to plant one. This is, to be sure, highly problematic. Would you move to a community where there was no oxygen? Would you move to a community where there was no food? Of course not! Why would you move to a place where there is no place to worship?”

I hesitate. It is certainly undeniable that one ought to “take care of his soul” when considering creational calling. It really should be second-nature to ask specific redemptive questions in the midst of creational endeavor. But at the same time, I think there should also be due caution given any tendency to potentially mismanage one's dual citizenship in the other direction. True enough, we should take care against the demands of creation to unduly interfere with those of redemption. But one may find that in his zeal to take care of his soul that he has neglected the demands of his body.

I have heard Christian believers speak of moving to be closer to a particular church. And in response I have always only heard kudos for demonstrating pious commitment, even as much as I have curiously never heard any corrective to it. (Tangentially, one often hears what I like to call the “totem pole syndrome.” This is where Christian believers rigidly rank their commitments. It goes something like this: “God first, then church, then family, then work, then recreation, etc.” First, it is hard to conceive of how “God comes first” when he is sovereign over all things, to say nothing of how it sure sounds a lot like perceiving the Most High as an agent amongst equals. And I'll let the implicit pietism go for now. Second, at least in the world I inhabit, I simply cannot work with the tyranny of reckoning relatively equal vocations. Sometimes family is sacrificed by the demands of my work, sometimes vice versa. Sometimes the tally-man will just have to find another way to tally me bananas for a week or so while I gallivant with my family in south Florida or northern Michigan. And just a few weeks ago I had to forgo both a deacon's meeting and a Classis Renewal pow-wow to do just that. Good thing Jesus is sovereign over it all or the guilt would be killer.) Just how well might these sorts of things fit into what might be considered the better of a two-kingdoms understanding?

It is more my view that as citizens of the two kingdoms, which are equally and sovereignly ruled by Christ, Christian believers should strive to relate to them accordingly, however imperfectly. The left-hand kingdom is one characterized by law, the right-hand kingdom by grace. It would seem to me that vocational calling is as much Christ's as effectual calling; when God calls us into his world it is just as legitimate as when he calls us to his church. This is the complicated reality of having dual citizenship. It is not easily solved when one understands he is subject to a Sovereign who rules both kingdoms equally but differently.

So I am not convinced that the reality of a less-than church scene in a particular geographic location necessarily should put the kibosh on one's creational plight. It seems to me that creational demands—economic, educational, familial, relational—demand superior consideration when doing creation. It only makes sense. Hard as it may be for some to swallow, this means that, ultimately, creational course should be decided by the principles of creation and not redemption. Moreover, it should be guarded against to think this somehow impious on the part of the Christian believer. In point of fact, it should be considered quite the opposite.

If we are going to be serious when it comes to being faithful to the principles of redemption, which is to say, hold unswervingly to the confessional Reformed tradition in both belief and practice, should it not be the same as we bid in creation? After all, the Triune God is sovereign over both kingdoms and is the Author of the principles of each.

My, my. See, this is the sort of thing I find so disconcerting in so many ways that I am not even sure where to begin. I am reminded of Elaine Benes’ words to the short, bearded guy who worked in television. Not having the discernment to lay off, he kept hounding her for another date, moreover trying to “wow” her with his job as an executive in television broadcasting. Referring to his work in the TV industry and her activistic-moralism, she finally had to get a bit brutal and said, “I don’t see this working; you’re part of the problem.” He decided to quit his job and go save the whales in order to appeal to her sensibilities.

It would be a relief if, like Elaine, I could get the good Reverend McAtee and those like him to join up with the proverbial GreenPeace and do some actual good instead of “perpetuating the problem.” Americans religionists, especially those of the Christian variety, and especially those of the broad Evangelical and Reformed theonomic persuasion, seem to think they have the ideological corner on, well, you-name-it. There is something resident within their line of thought that tells them that just because they discern eternity in a superior way that they must also necessarily discern that which is temporal in kind. What is that?

If nothing else it seems to be the religio-statecraft equivalent of the obnoxious office know-it-all who spouts off about anything anyone dares to bring up just because it’s there and because he thinks he knows all there is to know and that he is more than likely correct. Now, I will resist the temptation to appeal to some ill-fated notion that Christians ought to behave better than the rest of the world just because they are Christians. Many of us fall into that trap in various ways, and it really takes away any larger argument against our maintaining that heaven does not imply earth, and moreover, that the best of Calvinism actually renders us quite hesitant about our temporal abilities. So maybe I should put it like this: we should work harder to be consistent with our Calvinism and make room for believers to be just as prone to failure as unbelievers. I wonder if it occurs to Bret if he might get some of this wrong? I don't know about anyone else, but in my own day-to-day operations I sure get as at least much wrong as I get right.

In other words, though one may not know it by reading “Bret McAtee on everything,” we are us all, believer and non-, a part of the problem. That's the point.

Amidst this population boom [1775-1845], American Christianity became a mass enterprise. The eighteen hundred Christian ministers serving in 1775 swelled to nearly forty thousand by 1845. The number of preachers per capita more than tripled; the colonial legacy of one minister per fifteen hundred inhabitants became one per five hundred. ... Twice the number of denominations competed for adherents, and insurgent groups enjoyed the upper hand.

This was only a few days after Echo sent me a fascinating article about a trend towards political moderation in the Religious Right. Adam Smith, in Wealth of Nations, observed similar revivalism and denominational proliferation in the Britain of his day (1776):

Smith observed a relationship between these revivals and the process that we now call urbanization. Young people, arriving in cities in search of work, faced new opportunities and temptations without the structure that village life—with its communities of relatives and others that watched and guided young people—had provided. “A single week’s thoughtlessness and dissipation is often sufficient to undo a poor workman forever,” wrote Smith about life in London. But the city’s small sectarian religious congregations gave rural immigrants a social-support network and a moral code that could keep them on the straight and narrow as they built new lives. These movements were a response to the dislocations of modernity; there was no reason to expect them to fade away.

Yet in the teeming religious marketplace of Britain’s cities, Smith also saw pressures that would limit the political impact of religious beliefs and prevent theocracy. With so many competing denominations, he noted, religious leaders could acquire political influence only by finding allies outside their own version of the faith—and the process of forming those alliances would drive them toward agendas that could appeal to a wider, multi-faith audience. To be politically significant, he wrote, religious extremists had to move toward broader and necessarily more-moderate coalitions. Their entry into politics would, itself, moderate them.

Indeed, what is politics, but compromise? (That is a small question, in the middle of a long post, but really it is the core of the post, so stop a second and let it sink in) If the Church's mission is to "engage the culture" (or even yuckier: "redeem the culture"!) via politics, then success requires compromise, and an uncompromising Church will necessarily be a failure. This is the mentality that got us to our current infatuation with "deeds, not creeds."

So that was then (18th century Britain, post-revolution U.S.); and this is now. Plus ça change... Yesterday, Clark posted on Heidelblog about the brouhaha currently raging at Westminster Philadelphia (WTSP). While am not intending to analyze WTSP's situation in particular, this quote is applicable to the church as a whole:

The pressure is immense to conform to the theology, piety, and practice of the evangelicals. There is not a great “market” in North America for Reformed confessionalism. There are at least 60 million American evangelicals. There are probably no more than one half million confessional Reformed folk. Put another way, the evangelicals are at least 120 times larger than NAPARC. Implicitly it has been promised to confessional Reformed institutions that if they will only give a little on Reformed distinctives (e.g. the regulative principle, the sabbath, Word and sacrament) they will be allowed to retain what is “really important” (e.g. predestination) and we will be made “influential” and even wealthy with larger students bodies and more donations. Of course it’s a Faustian bargain. By making such a bargain Reformed folk have allowed others to define them.

I have some additional thoughts, but as this post is long and self-contained enough, I'll stop here for now.

Some of us in more theologically conservative circles have taken the good pastor to task by gasping over the stark language and rendering a sort of romper room indictment for having “taken the Lord's Name is vain.” That certainly may be. But I have always thought it not a little sophomoric and a lot more moralistic to understand the long and short of third commandment to be pedestrian profanities. It seems to me that just as idolatry is more than bowing to a piece of wood, taking the Lord's Name in vain is something that more importantly manifests itself in world views that one more often than not is unawares. In other words, Pastor Wright's invectives are more than being a potty-mouth. What his indulgent public speech reveals is the fact that some western religionists of Christian persuasion can be said to have a fairly cynical view of the Western tradition generally and the American project specifically. Assuming that it should, it just doesn't work well for some people, thus the Lord is to be invoked to reign down curses.

By contrast, some others have a fairly sanguine view of that same tradition and project. I recall having a conversation with a member of our church, a retired professor and author. It was the relatively expected back and forth between one of a Reformed, neo-Kuyperian and transformationalist persuasion and one from a more Reformed, Klinean and two-kingdom point of view. There was really nothing new here to see. As expected, where a Christian religionist like Jeremiah Wright sees it as a foe, this Anglo-Saxon saw Western Christendom as a friend that has made the world an immeasurably better place. With a vested interest in believing that something resident within Christianity implies our very particular slice in the broader kingdom of man, and further implying that the latter teeters on being sacrosanct, this genial believer could take it no longer and finally asked me a question: “Are you seriously telling me that you would not rather the here and now than Jesus' own time and place?”

Rhetorical questions are designed for obvious answers, and it was no less true here: Our time and place is quite simply superior. After all, we have light bulbs, democracy, paved roadways and no sign of polio. It seemed we both agreed that our shared time and place was preferable—but our reasons were quite different: I prefer my time and place not because it is better but because it is mine; it is the one given to me by God. I don't want the future any more than I don't want the past. I don't want Africa any more than I don't want Malaysia. I want late twentieth-early twenty-first America, with all its flaws and benefits, vices and virtues, because it belongs to me.

While Reverend Wright may want the Most High to damn America, and while my friend may want to see it as eternally blessed, I must admit that I, once again, have no seat in this conversation. What seems tragically overlooked by those who would claim a Christian perspective on things is not only how either of these views are a mixed bag of violations against the second and third commandments, but also how it reveals tremendous discontentment with time and place being what the Sovereign has graciously bestowed. Where my friend's view would have a believer in another time and/or place rue his being a citizen of anything other than modern America, the pastor's would actually compel one to harbor disdain for such a status, ostensible protestations notwithstanding.

“Being content in all things” is what is superior because it is profoundly more difficult than either championing or disparaging any particular time and/or place. To my lights, however dim, it seems vastly more Christian to understand oneself as being a servant of the Most High first and always wherever one is placed than it is to assign either divine contempt or heavenly virtue to greater or lesser degrees, here or there. It certainly isn't that he who is a citizen of both heaven and earth mayn't find contempt or virtue within his latter citizenry; that would be absurd. But it is most assuredly to say that if the same one claims to be an heir of a better country, one wrought by God alone, he should stop well short of taking the Lord's Name in vain—with a scowl or a smile—and see to it that he put his mind, mouth and body toward a better service.

Всички компютри в офиса ми са именовани по схема, за да има някакъв ред. С изключение на два stand-alone компа, които са извън локалната ни мрежа и служат за достъп през интернет до разни борсови бази данни, индекси и банкови сайтове. Вероятно понеже не са в мрежата съм пропуснал да им сложа стандартните имена когато съм ги инсталирал. Пропуск - нарушават ми схемата и реда, нищо че са извън локалната мрежа (и извън домейна съответно). Веднага сядам и поправям. А при смяна на името на машината, Дограмата съвсем естествено реагира с искане за рестарт. Аз игнорирам - така или иначе в края на деня ще ги изключат и ще ги включат в понеделник.

Миналия Понеделник.

В 7:20 сутринта звъни джесемето и от офиса ми съобщават, че не могат да си свалят борсовите данни, защото двата въпросни компютъра изведнъж при стартирането пожелали потребителско име и парола! WTF? Тези двата винаги са били настроени да стартират без да изискват оторизиране - не им трябва, не са в мрежа, не са в домейн?! Диктувам няколко стандартни логина и пароли, които използваме понякога при инсталация на нова работна станция - и двете компютърчета отхвърлят всички. Причината - "Не е намерен домейн контролер за това потребителско име"... WTF?!? Какъв домейн контролер, бе?!? Нахлузвам на две на три някакви дрехи, викам такси и след двадесет минути съм в офиса. За да се убедя с очите си в невъзможното - и двете машини изведнъж са решили, че са в някакъв домейн, упорито отказват да приемат каквото и да е потребителско име - дори администраторския акаунт бива отхвърлен със същото безразлично "няма домейн контролер за това име"... И сега? Не е решение да прасна нов Уиндоус отгоре - на компа има инсталирани софтуери, чиято преинсталация ще отиде до обяд, да не споменаваме разните сертификати и прочие, дето естествено никой не е бекъпнал и съществуват само на тях... ако трябва да се анулират и да се чакат нови - отиде два дена... а хората трябна да работят и трябва да работят сега и веднага!

Кратък research ми отваря очите за ситуацията... Като съм сменил името на машините е трябвало да рестартирам тутакси, за да влезе новото име в сила. Отлагането на рестарта не е опция, а сто процентова гаранция за катастрофално омазване. И други бяха яли тия пасти. С думи прости - ако не се рестартира веднага, с течение на времето Дограмата "забравя", че името е сменено - нещо си там се омацва със SAM файла. И когато евентуално я спрете и пуснете отново - тя се опитва да верифицира юзърите пред старото име на машината... но машината вече не се казва така... и става една... измисля си едни домейни, въпреки че е в проста уъркгрупа и никакви домейни няма... не приема паролите... Няма влизане. Няма влизане - но само ако разчитате единствено на Дограмата... Защото съществува едно такова нещо наречено Offline NT Password & Registry Editor и това е Линукс базиран инструмент за редактиране, отблокиране, променяне на паролите за достъп на потребители под w2k, XP и Vista дори... Много яко! Правят се три дискети - една със самия инструмент и две с драйвъри за твърди дискове. Boot-вате от първата дискета, после слагате дискетата с драйвърите когато ви я поиска, после просто следвате указанията и... успешно оправяте кашата сътворена от вас в съучастие с гениалните програмисти на Уилям Хенри Гейтс III... Once again - the day is saved thanks to the Linux!

Cool...

Извода от тази история е - винаги рестартирайте, когато Дограмата ви помоли да го направите - за ваше добро е. Това е Уиндоус, не е Линукс. Рестартите са част от концепцията на Микромек за операционна система, независимо дали ви харесва, дали сте се научили от *nix да не рестартирате - това не е *nix. Запомнете го. А ако не сте от паметливите - свалете си Offline NT Password & Registry Editor и го дръжте някъде, където да ви е под ръка. Обичам такива малки, елегантни и умни инструменти. Може би защото съм глупав... може би защото ми се налага да работя с Уиндоус... знам ли.

Gasp. You mean we can have our cake and eat it, too? That is good, since I have a brutal sweet tooth. I love cake.

When anyone wonders what I mean by "the radical intolerance of things cultic and the radical tolerance of things cultural," what he said.

This t-shirt slogan is a humorous play-on-words; true camping takes place within the tent structure and camping is an emotionally moving experience.

If I were the kind of person inclined to advertise my theology on shirts or stickers, I might opt for a slogan reading: “This Pilgrimage is In-Tents." I know, it's lame. But stay with the post, I quote Horton later.

One meaning would be our current physical dwelling place, our earthly tent in which “we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling” (II Cor 5). Another meaning would be what I experience as a Reformed believer as I try to keep the “already” and the “not yet” in balance. Hear Horton, Michael:

To be sure, there is a tension in the Reformed position to see all of life under the reign of God and yet to affirm that “we do not yet see all things subjected to Christ.” Some err on the side of triumphalism (an over-realized eschatology emphasizing the “already”), while others err on the side of pessimism (an under-realized eschatology emphasizing the “not yet”). But if Calvinists are not expected to endure tyranny, they are also not given liberty to take justice into their own hands or to exercise the judgment reserved for the King of Kings on the last day. Nor are they to seek to impose their distinctively Christian convictions on society through the kingdom of power, as both Rome and the radical Anabaptists tried to do. Rather, they are to pursue their dual citizenship according to the distinct policies proper to each kingdom. The Bible functions as the constitution for the covenant people, not for the secular state.

God of Promise (Grand Rapids, MI. Baker Books, 2006) p. 127

That's tension. And that's intense.

And if I may, there is a possible third meaning related to the other two. As part of God’s remnant here on earth, living in the Spirit, I am part of God’s heavenly temple presence. While I am presently encompassed by the tent of God in principle, and part of His presence on earth, the universal extent of His presence will not be achieved until the last day when Christ returns and makes all things new. Only then will the tabernacle of God at long last be with men (Rev 21:3), when Christ destroys this cosmos and brings the new heaven and earth.*

Indeed, this pilgrimage is in tents, and in a tent. But don’t worry, I won’t get shirts printed.

*I leaned upon some of G.K Beale’s thoughts on page 387 of The Temple and the Church’s Mission here.

I have no reason to continue my sacred career as a newsman.

It would seem that, even without Christendom, it is possible to conflate two kingdoms.

It seems altogether typical in modern western religion to force the definition of “neighborliness” into various yet terribly narrow expressions of exact justice. “Good works” is more often than not be translated into pragmatic, cause-oriented efforts or highfalutin theories about anything from the have's versus the have not's to the contemporary holocaust of the unborn. I have come more and more to the conclusion that American religionists are secretly disgusted with the concepts of both ordinary life and proximate justice.

To them it is anathema that “neighborliness” begins and ends with more ordinary things like minding one's own business, working quietly to support and nurture a family and participating in the dilapidated and world-worn machinery of mundane public service. American religionists of various stripes and persuasions are almost entirely fixated on the extra-ordinary problems of the world and their attendant solutions, which they imagine will garner loud applause and noble shivers down the spine. They seem unsatisfied with the stuff of a long and relentless PTO meeting that leaves all the participants feeling fairly uninspired about what was unaccomplished by 10:23 PM. Rather, they want to repair all the ills that every other time and place has failed to finally assuage. It seems a blind spot that most of the believing life is really about mindfully maintaining what is set before them instead of being beset, to relatively greater or lesser degrees, with how to fix it, fix it, and fix it.

I would contend that the typical American religionist is very long on sentimental ideal but quite short on ordinary piety. Ironically, in his proneness to “care about strangers, to care about evil and social injustice” he actually ends up risking the neglect of those who are actually close, known and entrusted to him. Much as it might irritate, the truth is that each of us really only affects our more immediate environment, and even then only imperfectly. Even those who are afar off must be brought near and made ours first before having any lasting consequence upon them.

Or do they really believe, even as they tell us just how duplicitous and vain the broader American culture is, that we may have it all? Maybe they can save the world of strangers and also fully attend those who have been given to their immediate care? Do they really believe they are not in fact called to choose between that which the sarx longs for and what Spirit demands? For my part, as much as I'd like to think that not only do I know just what the family down the street needs and that I can provide it, I have one of my own and never seem to have things so well squared away that they can afford my absence.

Like I said in response to the comment originally, I find it wholly repellent the notion that just because one doesn't care the way another does or expects does not mean that one doesn't care. And it just might be that a superior advocacy could actually be more ordinary, organic, local and familiar than extraordinary, panoramic, distinct and remarkable. I realize such a notion may be far from exciting. But when one considers the fact that the solution to humanity's problem was played out in relative obscurity that also may be the very point.

In the same way, it seems that every once and a while it may be necessary to remind otherwise those who think W2Kers are too otherworldly, triumph grace over a damnable ethics, believe that Christ is not-so-sovereign over the left-hand kingdom, are under-realized or Lutheranized Calvinists or latent Anabaptist Dispensationalists or Fundamentalists or Liberals just plain antinomian. Such charges are as left-of-center to me as when I am accused of not understanding the relative guilt or innocence of a five-year-old with her hand in the cookie jar. Maybe it’s my density, but it sure seems like an antinomian would forego the discipline of children for the reckless application of grace. Yet the protestations of my daughters seem to suggest I have no problem with law, I just happen to like it in its proper place.

Outhouse St. Hart sent along this piece by Steven Graber during an exchange with some Covies who pulled out the A-word on me. Evidently I had displayed an unmistakable antinomianism when I hypothetically responded to Tim Keller’s call to transform New York City by declaring how much I dig NYC and really wouldn’t change a thing. It seems my figurative forest language was lost in a hedge of literal trees. And, for his part, I’ve always liked Hart’s deft, confessionalist navigation between those who under-realize earth and those who over-realize it. I know I have posted it before, but stuff like “…liturgical Protestantism lowers the stakes for public life while still affirming politics' divinely ordained purpose. The public square loses some of its importance but retains its dignity. It is neither ultimately good nor inherently evil; politics becomes merely a divinely appointed means for restraining evil while the church as an institution goes about its holy calling” really dovetails nicely with Garber’s concept of proximate justice. And given that this time of year in a Presidential election reveals the fact that American religionists are secretly disgusted with the idea of proximate justice, it might kill two birds with one stone: W2kers are not at all adverse to ethics, but neither are we positively giddy about just what politics can yield.

Post script: for no extra charge, in response to the Lutheranized Calvinism accusation per the likes of one P. Andrew Sandlin, I’d recommend J.V Fesko’s contribution to The Confessional Presbyterian, Volume 3 (2007).

Marriage is first and foremost a religious matter, not a government matter. Government is not moral and cannot make us moral. Law should reflect moral standards, of course, but morality comes from religion, from philosophy, from societal standards, from families, and from responsible individuals. We make a mistake when we look to government for moral leadership.

and,

Government regulation of marriage is based on state recognition of the practices and customs formulated by private individuals interacting in civil society. Many people associate their wedding day with completing the rituals and other requirements of their faith, thus being joined in the eyes of their church and their creator, not with receiving their marriage license, thus being joined in the eyes of the state.

I won't wait a week to tell you.

See a related OH post here.

**UPDATE on 01/30**

These two quotes were spoken back in 2004 by Congressman and now Republican Presidential candidate Ron Paul (R-Texas). The quotes in context can be found HERE and HERE. Paul was responding to the proposed constitutional amendment to define marriage.

Ron Paul is known for his small-government, Libertarian political platform. As Zrim alluded to, those who have a two-kingdoms view often rally behind Libertarians because they tend to place things in their proper kingdom by limiting government.

But it appears Ron Paul views marriage as being grounded, at least primarily, in the spiritual kingdom and not the worldly. This places him in disagreement with more than a few W2K proponents on this point. But how much can you blame a Texas politician who has probably “never heard of the Law/Gospel or CoW/CoG hermeneutic nor two-kingdomizing”?

I have heard this before, and given our current political climate these days, I run into this ethos more and more. It usually rides the back seat on the tandem cycle of religious animus, the front seat reserved for the curious notion that since Mormons can't figure out cultic truth, how can one be trusted at the helm of cultural endeavor? (As if true religion were a matter of pure induction and reducible to choosing the most sensible retirement plan—little wonder the front seat is usually captained by less-than-Calvinist decisionalists).

If Mormonism is one of the fastest growing religions in North America, it would seem that many have already given it attention, see it as credible and likely to be appreciably unfazed as to who takes up residence on Pennsylvania Avenue. What sentiments like Mohler's miss is the nature of that credibility: spiritual versus worldly. Those that would champion a truly spiritual warfare, it seems to me, couldn't care any less about what a worldly institution does or doesn't imply. If one fears the credibility worldly office lends a falsehood, then it must follow that one feels rather secure about what that same office might do for true religion. But both the fear and security of worldly credibility reveals a rather low view of the supernatural power of God to convert the darkened and depraved human heart and a rather high view of the tools of the flesh to effect the same, ostensible protestations notwithstanding. So let the leader of the free world be Mormon, or Hindu, or Pantheist, or Baptist. If St. Paul seemed rather pacific about the fact that his Roman Emperor thought he was a deity in the here and now, why should we care if our President thinks he will be one in the hereafter—unless, as the sub-text of Mohler's fear seems to imply, there really is something religiously credible tied up in American presidentialism that wasn't there in Caesar? But if so, something tells me Paul would have covered that somewhere.

And yet, I am nothing if not able to concede when I can agree with a Southern Baptist Convention leader. Reading further, I was a bit aghast to see that Richard Land expresses something I seem to find myself muttering as well these days in response to those who haven't yet shaken off the worst of Walter Martin in using the C-word to describe perfectly sane fellow citizens, failing miserably to distinguish between Jonestown and Sault Lake City: “Mormons are neither Christians nor cultists.” Alas, the joy of new-found ecumenism is predictably short-lived as my inner cynic tells me that while we may make the same utterance, it is done for different reasons. My Reformed hermeneutics tell me to read Land's piece within his “Christian Nation” whole. Beyond his bizarre claim that posits Mormonism as “the fourth Abrahamic religion” instead of a religious system founded by a gifted charlatan eventually cut down by an angry mob, and given his unabashed Religious Right credentials, I suspect Land is more driven by the very Constantinianism that yet ails Mohler. In other words, Land is driven by a sacralized politics and evidently will stop at nothing to make sure that the third rail of his social gospel platform (read: abortion) is not abated.

All told, I cannot decide which is worse: Mohler's fear and security of worldly credibility that perpetuates Constantinianism, or Land illegitimately lending religious credibility to a religious falsehood in order to perpetuate a mere social gospel. Maybe I will tip another sacred Southern Baptist cow by breaking an institutionalized legalism and simply throw some dice.