When you elevate your doctrinal system too highly, you become a fundamentalist Christian in a second sense: You start to believe that all of God’s graces, or at least the best of them, are found only within your narrow little camp. Again, I am no doctrinal relativist, but it seems that God has chosen to give greater insight into certain areas of Christian life and teaching to people I disagree with on secondary issues than he has to me and the people in my camp. A fundamentalist Christian doesn’t recognize that—in many ways, can’t recognize that. Fundamentalism believes that if you’re not in our camp, and you’re not on the approved list, there is very little you have to say. The best of God’s grace is only with me and mine.
Calvinists seem especially prone to this kind of fundamentalism. They go to Calvinist conferences where they only listen to Calvinist speakers who have the tulips in their clerical caps configured correctly. They read only Calvinist books. Anyone who is not their version of a Calvinist is suspect, and they will concoct any number of Shibboleths to determine if you’re in or out. The only game they play in their church’s nurseries is “Duck, Duck, Damned.”
(Just kidding—just seeing if you are still paying attention.) But…some Calvinists carry themselves with the attitude that if you’re not Reformed, you have nothing helpful to say. That is a prime example of being a fundamentalist Christian. Of course, if your name is C.S. Lewis, then you get a pass, but that’s just because C.S. Lewis is dead now. I tend to think that if C.S. Lewis were alive today, he would not be nearly as beloved by as many Reformed people as he is today.
Anti-Calvinism fundamentalism can be just as bad, of course. “Calvinists don’t ever share the gospel,” another type of fundamentalist Christian might say. “Calvinists kill missions and evangelism.” “No one who believes in any form of limited atonement believes in a God of love.” “Calvinists believe in a different God than the God of the Bible.” These are all actual statements I’ve heard from Christian leaders over the years. How these people cut out Martin Luther, George Whitefield, Adoniram Judson, William Carey, Charles Spurgeon and Bill Bright from their “faith tradition” I’ll never understand.
I feel like God has orchestrated my life so that I have no choice but to acknowledge the strong strains of God’s grace at work in traditions different from my own. Independent Baptists taught me, growing up, to trust the Bible and love the gospel, and the priority of missions. I ministered in college and then served on the mission field with some of the godliest, most gospel-loving people I would ever encounter—from within the charismatic camp. I continue to be challenged by believers from radically different backgrounds than my own, and with whom I disagree on a number of important points. I have been enriched by both John Owen and John Wesley, R.C. Sproul and Jim Cymbala. I think it is healthy for every Christian to cross-pollinate.
I keep saying I’m no ‘doctrinal relativist,’ so let me explain what I mean by that. Certain doctrines are clear enough and important enough that we simply must draw clear lines regarding who is “in” and who is “out.” By this I mean doctrines like “the Trinity,” “penal substitution,” “salvation by grace through faith,” the “bodily resurrection of Jesus,” “biblical inerrancy” and the like. Even though each of these points has been disputed in the history of the church, I believe these things are clear enough and important enough that we have to limit our ministry fellowship to those with whom we see eye to eye regarding them. The finer points of Calvinism simply do not go into that list for me. If we agree on the essentials of the gospel, I think we can have deep, meaningful ministry alignment. (And what are those essentials as it relates to Calvinism? See here).
It takes humility to learn from people you disagree with. But that is how God has worked historically in his global, 2,000-year-old church. Let’s show the world that we can still be one body united around the gospel of Christ, even as we passionately disagree about other issues.
Perhaps it is more than a little ironic, considering the tone of the conversation today, that John Calvin himself wanted to be known as the “ecumenical Reformer.” If you study Calvin’s life, you see he had no desire to start a sect of Calvinists. He wanted the truths of God’s grace to influence all evangelical preaching. In fact, in his Institutes, he never lists out “the five points of Calvinism.” There’s some debate as to whether he even believed in “Limited Atonement” as usually presented today (though I personally believe that he did), so un-emphatic was his treatment of it. The point is, he would never have said, “Calvinism is the gospel.” He was zealous, I believe, to see God’s glory above all, God’s priority in salvation, God’s sovereignty over all things, especially his church, and God’s guarantee of his people’s salvation. As my Calvinist friend Andy Davis says, “Calvin would hate the name Calvinist and would be annoyed by the vast majority of Calvinists today.”
The gospel—not the five points of Calvinism—is the center of our faith. If you believe in the loftiness of God’s glory, that salvation belongs only to God and that God is sovereign over the world, and that he that has begun a good work in you will see it through, then you and I can stand in alignment, even if we parse some of the particulars differently.
This article about being a fundamentalist Christian originally appeared here.