In the summer of 2012, I went to a conference where the
preaching was purposefully grounded in Reformed theology. I like Reformed
theology for a lot of reasons—primarily because, to echo Piper, it provides “the
best composite, Bible-distilled picture of God that I have” (pg. 130)—but lingering
at the back of my mind during that conference was knowledge of the darker side
of this tradition of theological thought; namely the racism, prejudice, and
violence that has characterized much of its history. It’s a bit much for me to
outline this history in a blog post, so I will just provide a few bullet points
to consider:
·
It is well known that Martin Luther was an
anti-Semite, and preached genocide for Jews
·
South African Apartheid (which only just ended
in 1994) was grounded in Dutch Reformed theology
·
The African slave trade was supported and
perpetuated by what might be considered flagship Protestant countries, with
deep Reformed traditions: England, and the United States.
·
The concomitant role of Protestant missionary
work and colonialism (which only ended after World War II, and the relationship
still haunts mission work today)
The connections between racism and Reformed theology were on
my mind during that conference because of two classes I took the previous
academic quarter: a global history of Christianity, where the racial strife that
mediated relationships between Christians of different races and ethnicities was
a significant theme; and core theory in anthropology, where race has been part
of anthropological paradigms from the inception of the discipline. These two
classes highlighted societal structures in place that perpetuate racial
prejudice. While these classes offered great observations, they stopped at
deconstructing societal structures and basically saying that there’s a problem.
They didn’t get at the root of the problem of race however—which is sin—and
thus they provided no satisfying solutions.
(At a Bible study recently, a
friend made the observation that nonbelievers are not aware of sin. I
understood this to mean that unbelievers may not be aware of sin in their own
lives, or may not choose to label it as sin; however, from these two classes, I
would say nonbelievers are very aware of sin, thought they may not use the
term. I would say that, while they recognize the social structures that
perpetuate racism, many may not be able to recognize how they are personally part of the problem—though
they may see how others’ prejudices factor into the structure. And this is not limited to unbelievers; believers--including this one--are apt to do the same).
Piper’s recent book Bloodlines:
Race, Cross and the Christian was a welcome voice to these conversations. One
thing I admire about Piper is that he tackles hard(er) topics, such as race,
pleasure (he’s famous for his term “Christian hedonism”), and singleness and
marriage (where he develops a theology of singleness that doesn’t demean
single people).
As an academic, there were four things that Piper satisfied
me on:
1)
The book is written in the American cultural context
(hence his choice to use the term “race” and “racism,” which have a specific
history within the United States, rather than terms “ethnicity” or “ethnic” in
much of his book). I would say that while Piper’s aim is to develop a theology
of Christian diversity, and he acknowledges that racism and ethnocentrism have
a variety of forms, he states that, “focusing on my own history, and the
black-white reality in particular, has helped me keep my feet on the ground and
my heart connected to real people” (pg. 28). I appreciated his effort to stay
grounded, as in my graduate courses—with the focus so much on social
structures—sometimes I wondered, at the end of the day, where people actually
factored in? The last two chapters of his work, which deal with racial
prejudice and interracial marriage, could be seen as two applications for the
American context of the truths he sets forth in his book.
2)
While Piper is no secular academic, he acknowledged and
gave an overview of academic voices in this regard, specifically looking at the
argument between personal responsibility and structural inequality. This is
found primarily in chapter 5. Here, I appreciated that he gave preference to outlining
these scholars’ arguments as he understood them rather than jumping to condone
or condemn their positions. He also referenced these academic works—both sacred
and secular—on race, theology, and social inequality within the American cultural
and historical context throughout his book. So while Piper spends the majority
of his book creating a biblical theology of diversity, he shows himself to be
very aware of other voices and viewpoints on this subject of racism and racial
inequality.
3)
He does not shy away from acknowledging the darker
history of Reformed theology. He outlines many of the historical points I have
made above. But while he points out that Reformed theology’s representatives
may not have always been the best examples of how to pursue racial harmony, he
stands by that “the truths themselves [as outlined by Reformed theology], when
rightly understood and embraced…cut the legs out from under racist attitudes”
(pg. 130).
4)
He acknowledges the political polarity on the issue of
racism in the United States, and the danger of judgment from within
conservative Christian circles that comes with stepping out on these issues. Tim
Keller points out in his introduction that, many evangelicals “give lip serve
to it [racism] being a sin, but they associate any sustained denunciation of
racism with the liberal or secular systems of thought” (pg. 11). For an
evangelical to look at race (and I would add especially a white evangelical),
or care about issues of race, opens them up to being accused of liberalism. From
my own observations, I’ve seen that conservatives in the United States care
primarily about personal or private morality, while liberals care about
social justice issues; therefore, I can see how one’s actions would be
politicized. But Piper demonstrates in this work how racism is an issue for Christians to address within their own communities. One of his
arguments for pursuing racial/ethnic harmony is that it is an outworking of love—rather
than lawlessness—thus evidence that faith is truly at work in us (chapter 13).
So while these were four points that I was satisfied on,
more widely I think Piper uses these to demonstrate that the Bible speaks to
racial inequality and racial prejudice within specific contexts; these don’t
just remain cerebral ideas.
So what does Piper have to say about racial strife and harmony?
1)
In chapter 6, Piper demonstrates how the Gospel
addresses some of the characteristics of racial strife—namely, supernatural
powers; then guilt, pride, hopelessness, inferiority and self-doubt, greed,
hate, fear, and apathy.
2)
In chapters 7 to 10, Piper demonstrates how the death
and resurrection of Jesus Christ shows that the people of God are no longer
defined as an ethnicity—as was the nation of Israel—but rather by faith in
Christ himself as Savior. This means that being a certain ethnicity or race is
not a pre-requisite to being part of the family of God; rather, everyone is
justified in the same way—by God’s grace, through faith. He structures his
argument around the “five points of Calvinism” and the five solas (yay Reformed theology!),
demonstrating how the blood of Christ puts all who receive God’s grace on equal
footing, thus allowing for racial harmony within the family of God. While this
book primarily speaks to the American context of racism, especially along black
and white lines, I found these chapters—especially chapter 9—to be relevant to all
other cultural situations.
I also appreciated that, in going
through the “five points of Calvinism” and “five solas,” Piper takes time to explain what these doctrines are. These
doctrines are not always explained very well, and I thought Piper did a good
job of defining and explaining these concepts. For example, Piper’s said that total
depravity “does not mean that we do as many bad acts as we possibly could [for
there are certainly many morally upstanding people in this world who do not
profess Christ]. It means that we are totally unable to trust Christ and do the
“work of faith” (1 Thess. 1:3; 2 Thess. 1:11) without the decisive intervention
of God’s enabling grace [called in Christian lingo “regeneration”]” (pg. 135).
3)
In chapters 11 to 13, Piper continues the theme of
“five points of Calvinism,” with the last two points (irresistible grace and
perseverance of the saints), moving from justification to sanctification. Basically,
God’s actions to bring people of every “nation and tribe and language and
people” (Rev. 14:6) into his kingdom on equal footing of salvation by grace (justification) doesn’t allow for racial prejudices to exist between God’s people now. If
pursuing racial/ethnic harmony is an outworking of love—rather than
lawlessness—thus evidence that faith is truly at work in us, then it is
perilous to our faith to show partiality along racial or ethnic lines within
the family of God. Thus pursuing racial harmony is evidence of sanctification.
4)
In chapter 14, Piper ends with how racial/ethnic
diversity within the family of God magnifies the glory of God’s grace. If God’s
glory is manifested most fully in His grace to us by Christ’s work on the
cross, then a diverse following demonstrates God’s greatness and beauty, and
undercuts feelings of ethnic/racial pride that God might choose one ethnicity
or race among many. One point I appreciated was that this diversity doesn’t end
in this age; rather, it extends into the next. While Revelation 21:3 is often
translated in English as “and they will be his people,” the Greek term is
plural—and they will be his peoples.
Hence, if God has done so much to reconcile people of every
diverse description to Himself, and clearly cherishes that diversity, the
conclusion Piper leaves his readers with is that Christians should work toward
racial reconciliation and cultural and ethnic diversity within their respective
local bodies now. What this will look
like will differ radically depending on the cultural context. For the US
context, and with his Southern roots, Piper specifically shows how this applies
to interracial marriage and transcultural adoptions, and racial prejudice in
chapters 15 and 16. In looking at these application points, Piper doesn’t
pretend or promise that application wont’ be messy. He makes the acute
observation that “the more you love, the more painful it gets” (pg. 214).
Ok, humor me on two personal points. Piper’s work helped me
work through two realizations as an (A)TCK.
1)
Piper stated that “…majority people don’t think of
themselves in terms of race…When you are the majority ethnicity, nothing you do
is ethnic. It’s just the way it’s done. When you’re a minority, everything you do has color [italics
mine]” (pg. 67). I can say that I grew up, for most of my childhood, as an
ethnic and racial minority; all of my
actions therefore had a color to them. While this seems pretentious for a white
American to say, consider these points:
a.
In Nepal, I had white skin, while everyone else’s was
various shades of brown; my hair was brown while everyone else’s were varying
shades of black; my eyes were blue, while everyone else’s was brown—minus the
random Nepali with blue or green eyes, and that
shocked other Nepalis.
b.
My religion was a minority religion. This was evident
that all national holidays in Nepal were Hindu religious holidays, not
Christian religious holidays; instead of church steeples dominating city
skylines, it was Hindu temples and Buddhist stupas that gave structure to the city’s
spiritual and civil landscape, to name a few.
c.
My language was a minority language: I couldn’t speak
my mother tongue—English—outside my house if I wanted to be understood; I had
to speak Nepali.
d.
My cultural actions were an anomaly. Some examples: my
family ate at a table together while Nepali families have a hierarchical order
of who eats first and who serves who; my parents had a “love marriage” while so
many of my Nepali friend’s parents had their marriages arranged, so we as
children had different expectations growing up as to who we would marry and how
we would marry; I knew when my birthday was and I had a mother who made a fuss
over the anniversary of my birth each year, while many of my Nepali friends
hadn’t a clue what year or day they were born, and their parents could car less.
e.
All of these had the color white plastered upon it, and all my interactions with Nepalis—even
now, as I do fieldwork—continually remind me that I am white.
2) Piper also observed that "The majority culture…has the luxury of being oblivious
to race (which would change in an instant if we [meaning white people] moved to
Nigeria)…for minority peoples, race-related issues are a persistent part of
consciousness” (pg. 72). When my family moved back to States, I had my
race/skin color engrained on my consciousness. As a result I was (1) weirded out
that everyone looked like me (we moved back to Alabama, where things are still
rather racially segregated. Because of the neighborhood we moved into, and the
church we attended, and the nature of my dad’s job, all of our immediate social
circles were white; if we wanted an interracial encounter, we had to seek it
out), and (2) amazed that all the people who looked liked me were not conscious of how racial/cultural
their actions were (hence I demonstrated very little tolerance for people who
had very little tolerance for cultural actions that differed from their own—what
a little bigot I was!).
With all these reminders about how different we are from
each other, the temptation to yield to feelings of guilt, pride, hopelessness,
inferiority and self-doubt, greed, hate, fear, and apathy when interacting with
people culturally and racially different than ourselves, is high—its hard work
to be a bridge. However, Piper shows that the Gospel gives hope for
reconciliation, for all Christian communities need a transcendent reference
point—which is God (pg. 248)—and to see that “the bloodline of Christ is deeper
than the bloodlines of race” (pg. 227)—which makes this reconciliation
possible.
I’ll end with another academic-y point: As a graduate
student in a discipline that straddles the humanities and social sciences, I
love cultural theory. Ideas stimulate me (as they weigh me down), and they are
useful in making sense of cultural situations I encounter. But theories have
limits, and the nature of the Gospel puts it in a separate category than
theory. Piper eloquently puts it like this in the beginning of his work:
"The gospel is not an
ideology [and he goes on to say its not just another philosophy or methodology
or therapy, and I would add theory]. It does not come in as one idea alongside
some others and make its contribution. The good news that God sent his Son
Jesus into the world to die in the place of sinners, and bear their punishment,
and become their perfect righteousness, and absorb the wrath of God, and set us
right with him through faith alone, and rise from the dead triumphant over
every foe--that gospel does not come as an ideology but as supernatural power.
When this news of salvation from our sin and from God's wrath is proclaimed in
the power of the Holy Spirit, it does not come with compelling ideas that
create new thoughts [the point of much social theory]; it comes with
supernatural power that creates new people. The Bible calls this being born
again." (pg. 83).
The Apostle Paul put it
another way: “[the Gospel] is the power of God for the salvation of everyone
who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile” (Romans 1:7).
