Tag: Church History Page 1 of 2

Saint Cyril of Alexandria and the Christological Controversy by John McGuckin: More Than You Thought You Wanted to Know about the Nestorian Controversy

DETAILS:
Publisher: St Vladimirs Seminary Press
Publication Date: January 1, 2004 
Format: Paperback
Length: 399 pg.
Read Date: September 1-November 3, 2024

What’s Saint Cyril of Alexandria and the Christological Controversy About?

I think if I tried to summarize this book, I’d either go on for paragraphs upon paragraphs or I’d miss something important, so I’m just going to borrow the summary on the Publisher’s site:

This important and compelling work describes the turmoil of fifth-century Christianity seeking to articulate its beliefs in the person of Christ. The policies of the Theodosian dynasty and the conflicting interests of the patriarchal sees are the context of the controversy between Nestorius of Constantinople and Cyril of Alexandria, a bitter dispute that racked the entire civilized world. The historical analysis expounds on the arguments of both sides, particularly the Christology of Cyril, which was adopted as a standard.

There are five chapters and I want to say a little about each.

Chapter One: The Context of the Ephesus Crisis

You’ve probably heard the popularized version—or the John Godfrey Saxe line about not wanting to know how the sausage is made when it comes to laws. Well, there’s a bit of truth there in theology, too. There’s a part of me that was better not knowing all the politicking, maneuvering, and PR work that went into the Nestorian Controversy. McGuckin gives us a lot of the run-up to the Ephesus Council, the convoluted way the Council got the job done—and how the various players got the Emporer to take the position he did following it.

It was interesting—and probably for someone who if better grounded in Orthodox history it was easy to follow (I didn’t find that)—but for me, it went on too long. Not only was it out of my comfort zone, I just didn’t find most of it that engaging or interesting. There were more than enough points that did pique my interest to keep me going—but I really had a hard time in this chapter.

Chapter Two: The Christology of Nestorius

McGuckin goes out of his way in this chapter to prove that he’s being (or at least attempting to be) fair to Nestorius. So much so that I was a little afraid that he was going to end up saying the differences between the two camps were overstated, and that they were closer than anyone (particularly those in the middle of the controversy) realized.

He didn’t go that far—and the next chapter demonstrates that very clearly—but he does show the root of the differences (which weren’t that great) and then how the differences were compounded and grew until Nestorious went too far.

Chapter Three: The Christology of Cyril

This chapter is the heart of the book and truly could’ve been published as a decent-sized volume by itself (maybe with Chapter Five to really make it worthwhile). McGuckin goes full Cyril fan-boy here—and it was great to see.

More importantly, he explained both the main and some of the minor points of Cyril’s Christology in depth. This was not easy reading, and I really had to think about some points—and read the occasional paragraph a few times to really get it (and I’d have to read them a few more before they’d get really ingrained).

I cannot say enough good things about this chapter, and I know I’ll be returning to it (and the last chapter) again—I’m not sure I’ll work through the rest again (just because it’s not something I really need to worth through). although I wouldn’t mind it. But these two chapters? Just gold.

Chapter Four: The Oecumenical Reception of Cyril’s Theology

This is a rather brief chapter recounting how Cyril’s teaching, largely through this conflict, affected the church immediately following him up through Chalcedon and the impact it had there. As much as I thought the first historical chapter could’ve used some trimming, I think this could’ve used a few more pages.

Chapter Five: Translated Texts

This is easily the most valuable part of the book—no disrespect to McGuckin’s analysis or recounting, but we get fifteen texts—homilies, letters, and theological writings from Cyril and Nestorius that show what both were saying—and there are a couple of appendices of other writings that play a role in the controversy.

It’s one thing to read a modern scholar’s take on these texts, it’s another to be able to read them for yourselves.

So, what did I think about Saint Cyril of Alexandria and the Christological Controversy?

Cyril’s language and preferred formulas were, as we have seen, sometimes responsible for causing more confusion than illumination in the camps of his opponents. Unlike Nestorius, however, his essential meaning always tended to emerge clearly enough from the discursive flow of his text, and so, while he cannot justly be called a confused thinker, at times he can be rightly accused of being a diffuse and discursive theologian… It would, nonetheless, be truer to conclude that it was only Cyril who possessed the moral and intellectual authority to bring matters to a head, at precisely the necessary time, by stating the issues so forcefully and so brilliantly.

When all is said and done, for the mystical and moral power his icon of Christ bears, for the profundity of his christian sense, the power of his intellect, and the unfailing purity of his literary purpose, then surely all his faults are diminished in significance.

His greatness cannot be denied.

All in all, this was a great book. It could’ve been a bit more engaging (especially in the first chapter), it could’ve been a little easier for Western laity to get into (not that we’re the audience). But those issues pale in comparison to the really good analysis, summarizing, and showing how it all plays out and is still relevant to the Church (Eastern and Western) today.

A lot of what McGuckin says about the patristic approach to exegesis here, and the characterization of Western and Eastern approaches to theology were interesting and thought-provoking—and on the whole very valuable. In fact, I wrote almost a few more notes about things like that—asides to the main controversy, than I did about the controversy. It was very helpful.

I really don’t have that much to say—it’s not an easy read, there are portions that we didn’t need (well, I didn’t need), but it’s worth the effort. I’m so glad that I read this and got this level of insight and understanding into this vital period of Church History. If you give it a shot, I imagine that you will almost certainly agree.

4 Stars

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Cultural Sanctification: Engaging the World like the Early Church by Stephen O. Presley: How Our Fathers and Mothers Walked

By HCNewton

On July 14, 2024

In Non-Fiction, Theology/Christian Living

As usual, this is not an examination of the nitty-gritty of this book. I’m not equipped by education, background, or temperament for that. I wish I was…I think this book should get that.

Cultural Sanctification:
Engaging the World
Like the Early Church

by Stephen O. Presley

DETAILS:
Publisher: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company
Publication Date: March 26, 2024
Format: Paperback
Length: 169 pg.
Read Date: June 2-9, 2024

Christians and non-Christians carried on regular every day interactions, in the marketplace and conversations at social gatherings in public places. Pagans “came in contact with the movement in a number of casual ways,” Nock says in his classic work on conversion, because “there was little, if any, direct preaching to the masses.” The church was not distinguished from the culture by anything in their outward appearance, especially since they were not typically found among the upper crust of society and thus blended in even more with those around them. What did distinguish them was their distinctive doctrine and practice. Christianity came on the scene with “very distinctive roots and, though fully embedded, was never fully enmeshed in the culture.”

What’s Cultural Sanctification About?

In the West, the Church finds itself in an increasingly Paganized culture, a post-Christiandom—Presley (and countless others) asserts. In response to this, several responses have been proposed, and can largely be lumped into two categories—some sort of Culture-War response where various and sundry methods and tools are used to push back against this, with the goal of re-establishing some sort of Christendom 2.0; the other is some sort of retreat into virtual, or literal, monasteries—communities of faith, separated from the rest of the culture.

Presley has another idea—why not look to the Early Church, the pre-Constantinian believers who were in a situation very similar, but a pre-Christendom. How did they go about interacting with the culture? This book explores that idea by looking at the way Christians believed, taught, and acted (generally speaking, recognizing outliers and sins along the way) in the spheres of: Identity, Citizenship, Intellectual Life, Public Life, and Hope.

Essentially, he places the Christians effort along two paths, as these two quotations summarize:

In an age when cultural Christianity is waning, there is no doubt that now is the time to revive our basic commitments to discipleship and regular worship together that will testify to the beauty of the community of faith. Living faithfully in a secular world will most certainly require Christians to take their Christian identity more seriously and the specific ecclesiological structures they take.

Before we start complaining about outside worldliness, we need to do some healthy self-examination and consider the doctrines and morality by which we actually live to better know how to offer true light in the darkness. Cultural engagement begins in the hallowed hall of the church with good instruction in the contours of Christian faith and practice.

His position is, to over-simplify: through a focus on catechesis (or, if you prefer, discipleship) and liturgy (or, if you prefer, worship) the Church was able to build identity and community, able to live out the lives they were called to and to impact—slowly and organically—the culture around them.

The Indexes

There are two indexes for this book—”Index of Names and Subjects” and “Index of Scripture and Other Ancient Sources.” While I’ve frequently found it difficult to discern what makes a “good” index over a “mediocre” or even “bad” index, sometimes quality just jumps out at you. Such is the case here—top-notch indexing.

So, what did I think about Cultural Sanctification?

…a Christian vision of cultural sanctification must begin with crafting Christian identity through catechesis (or discipleship) and liturgy (or worship). If Christians do not know the basic contours of Christian doctrine and morality, how can we expect them to live Christianly in a pagan world? Unfortunately, much current literature on cultural engagement begins with discussions of methods rather than formation. We are often concerned with how to respond to culture without considering the very basis upon which that response must proceed. Methods are essential, but without the right Christian assumptions informing them, we will be tossed about and finally prove ineffectual.

I know, I know…this is the third book* I’ve talked about this year focusing on the Early Church, Her approach(es), and relation to the culture and those individuals around her, with at least some application for the contemporary Church. At this point, I have no plans to add a fourth (but I won’t turn up my nose at one). There’s a lot of overlap in these three—they might not be entirely on the same page in application, but their descriptions of the Early Church in various contexts overlap a great deal. I find that pretty encouraging, honestly.

* The other two were Cultural Christians in the Early Church: A Historical and Practical Introduction to Christians in the Greco-Roman World by Nadya Williams and Strange Religion: How the First Christians Were Weird, Dangerous, and Compelling by Nijay K. Gupta

The other two, however, were more about describing the Early Church first and then looking at our circumstances secondarily. Presley’s goal is to find lessons and guidance for today (and the near future) from the Early Church. The difference in approaches and overall aims does color this a good deal. But since he’s clear about it from the outset (as were Williams and Gupta), so it doesn’t take you off-guard.

I was talking to a friend about it while working through the book and told him at the mid-point (or a little later) that I wasn’t sure I liked it because Presley was so good, insightful, and helpful or if it was because he was serving up a heaping plate of confirmation bias. This is, in very many ways, exactly what I wanted to read in a book with this aim—just with many more details and facts—and better argued than I could’ve offered. So, while I do think it’s a solid and helpful book—do know that I was primed to like it from page one.

As Williams shows and Gupta affirms (as does Presley), there’s a danger in relying too much on the Early Church—just because they were pre-Constantine (or pre-whatever mark you want to use), doesn’t make them infallible. They’re just as human, just as fallible, just as prone to wander as we are. However, we can look at how they responded to the culture around them and see how that culture responded. Can we assume that our results will be the same? No. But we can definitely see what didn’t work—and learn from what did in a culture that increasingly looks like theirs.

There are some things I wish he’d given us more detail on, a few notes that I think he struck too often, and a few things that I’m not sure I think he proved. But when it comes to almost all of those points, I’ve forgotten them (and/or can’t read my handwriting in my notes—which tells me I didn’t care enough to write clearly), so we’re talking about minor points. So I’m going to call this very helpful, solid, and pastoral work on a tricky subject.

Presley does indicate that there are times to back off (a la the Benedict Option)—at least in areas—and sometimes we need to approach something like a Culture War footing on a temporary basis. But neither of those ought to be the primary mode of interacting with our culture, neighbors, and government. Instead, we ought to follow in the faithful paths laid down before us—faith and practice, discipleship and worship, catechesis and liturgy. Presley’s book can help point us in the right direction.

Disclaimer: That section on the Indexes is a little tongue-in-cheek. I happen to be friends with the gentleman who prepared the Indexes. I do think they’re good and useful tools, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not sure they’re really worth mentioning (like all indexes). You’d probably have to offer an inaccurate or insufficient one to find a reason to talk about one, right?

4 Stars

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REPOSTING JUST ‘CUZ: Theological Retrieval for Evangelicals by Gavin Ortlund: An Accessible Call for 21st Century Christians to Learn from the Past

By HCNewton

On June 23, 2024

In Theology/Christian Living

I ended up having more time in the day to write this post than I normally do, and as a result ended up a bit more rambling and less-focused than intended. Hopefully it’s worth the read, despite my laxness.

Theological Retrieval for Evangelicals: Why We Need Our Past to Have a Future

by Gavin Ortlund

eARC, 224 pg.
Crossway, 2019

Read: October 5-12, 2019

This is another one of those theological works that I feel really unqualified to discuss. There’s part of me that thinks I should stop requesting them from NetGalley, or buying them and deciding that I want to post about them, but I probably won’t. So, know that this is from the perspective of an opinionated and semi-(formally)educated reader and occasional armchair theologian. Not the reflections of an ordained minister or professional theologian.

I’m glad Ortlund talks about this right out of the gate—but the case he lays out for Theological Retrieval here, strikes me as very similar to Michael Allen and Scott R. Swain’s Reformed Catholicity: The Promise of Retrieval for Theology and Biblical Interpretation and Kevin J. Vanhoozer’s Biblical Authority after Babel: Retrieving the Solas in the Spirit of Mere Protestant Christianity. Ortlund says they’re aiming for the same target, but those works are more oriented toward the Reformed, where he’s focused on Evangelicalism. I’d say that they’re all wanting the same thing, but his work is more accessible (by design) and less-inclined to advertise his scholarly awareness (particularly with the former).

One problem that you encounter right away is a nebulousness about the term “Evangelical.” If Ortlund defined his usage, I missed it. He seems to use it to apply to Bible-believing Protestants who aren’t Reformed or Lutheran. Which is fair enough, I guess, it’s just not an easily defined term anymore. Frankly, I’m with Carl Trueman and others, and consider the label “evangelicalism” meaningless as it can be applied to “everyone from Joel Osteen to Brian McLaren to John MacArthur.”

Ortlund doesn’t give a strict definition of Theological Retrieval—in fact, he avoids it, preferring to see it as a mindset or attitude toward the pre-Reformation Church and Theology, drawing from its strengths, seeing its weaknesses in our own, and putting the contemporary (and Reformation) Church in context of a developing understanding from the end of Acts to Second Coming. Given that, we should be more aware of, and interact more with, the Patristic and Medieval Church. He uses Turretin, in particular, to great benefit in showing that this was the mindset of the Protestant Reformation, and calls us back to it. Along the way, he uses Warfield (and the rest of Old Princeton) as emblematic of Evangelicalism’s departure from this thinking. I’m not sure that’s the best reading of Warfield, but it’s not worth arguing, because his overall point is so right.

The first Part of the book—roughly 60 pages in three chapters—sets the agenda, it’s “A Manifesto for Theological Retrieval.” He begins by asking if Evangelicals can Retrieve Patristic and Medieval Theology, before moving to asking why they need it, and then sketching out both the benefits and perils of it. All of which is profitable and well-worth reading.

But what makes this book different than so many, is that Ortlund doesn’t focus on the project, the theory behind it, or the method. He gives the rest of the book—120 pages or so—to examples of what he’s calling for people to do. Case-studies in theological retrieval—which is some of the best theological reading I’ve done this year, maybe the last couple of years.

The first is a chapter called “Explorations in a Theological Metaphor: Boethius, Calvin, and Torrance on the Creator/ Creation Distinction.” A nice mouthful, to be sure. To illustrate the Creator/Creature Distinction, he compares Tolkein’s relationship to The Lord of the Rings to God’s relationship to his creation, in terms of Boethius’ understanding, and how Calvin’s view would differ, before wrapping up with Torrance. Now, I have little use for what he tries to do with Tolkein—I think this sort of thing is almost as bad as trying to teach the Trinity by analogy (which always quickly lands the teacher in heresy). I know enough people do this sort of thing in teaching and writing, and I should try to pay more attention, but my eyes just glazed over. Most readers will get more out of this than I did. I did appreciate what he said about Boethius and Torrance in distinction from Calvin and feel like I understand the three a little better (not that I’m all that familiar with Boethius and Torrance), and think I got something from the chapter overall, but I know my own prejudices kept me from a full appreciation.

Things improve with “God Is Not a Thing: Divine Simplicity in Patristic and Medieval Perspective.” Rather than going head-on for contemporary critics of the doctrine, he takes a look at historic formulations (not limited to Aquinas’) of the doctrine and seeing how that should actually deepen Evangelical’s commitment to Simplicity as well as broaden our understanding of it. He interacts a good deal with James Dolezal’s wonderful All That Is in God and God without Parts here and reminds me that I need to re-read the former and read the latter. A better blogger (one also focused on theology, not the book) would camp out here for a few paragraphs, but I won’t. It’s just a great chapter and the kind of thing we need to see more of.

My favorite case study is the third, “Substitution as Both Satisfaction and Recapitulation: Atonement Themes in Convergence in Irenaeus, Anselm, and Athanasius.” I would read a book-length version of this tomorrow. Well, not tomorrow. I would start a book-length version of this tomorrow, and have a lot of fun over the following days. Ortlund shows the overlapping concerns of Irenaeus and Anselm (who are so often pitted against each other), how the Christus Victor and Substitutionary Atonement models are interdependent, not rivals (while not giving an inch to contemporary critics of Substitutionary Atonement, it should be pointed out). From there, he moves onto some of Athanasius’ work on the Incarnation, demonstrating that these works have a good deal to say about the Atonement, as well. If I got nothing else out of this book, I’d consider the time I spent reading it well-spent just for this chapter. I could’ve lived without the use of Aslan and the Stone Table portion of the study, but (contra the Tolkein), it proved to be a useful illustration.

“Cultivating Skill in the “Art of Arts”: Pastoral Balance in Gregory the Great’s The Book of Pastoral Rule” is the last case study. I remember reading healthy portions of this work by Gregory in a Church History class for much the same reason that Ortlund uses it. There’s a lot of wisdom for pastors of every age in this very old work—he also shows how manuals like Baxter’s or Spurgeon’s will say similar things. Timeless truths and advice put in ways that others wouldn’t. I really don’t have much to say about this, but it’s almost as good as the previous two.

This is one of the most-easily outlined books I’ve read this year (possibly the most), that’s a fantastic aid for referring back to it in the future or for going back and taking thorough notes. I’d go crazy if I read too many books like this, I prefer the more organic feeling approach. But when this is done right, it’s a handy bonus. Beyond that, as I said before, it’s very accessible. Sure, there are parts that are demanding, but nothing’s out of reach for the committed and attentive reader—and most of the time you don’t have to be that committed.

Like their counterparts from the previous century, Twenty-First Century Christians don’t know enough historical doctrine, and certainly don’t know how to treat what little they do know. Too often, Protestants will cede everything prior to 1517 to Rome (maybe Rome and the East), focusing only on the last 500 years—if they’ll even pay attention to anything prior to Fanny J. Crosby. Ortlund’s work is a great call for the everyday Christian to familiarize themselves with the past and learn from them as we ought the rest of the Church Militant. I strongly recommend this.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Crossway via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this stimulating read.

4 Stars

Strange Religion by Nijay K. Gupta: People Say I’m Strange, Does It Make Me A Stranger…

By HCNewton

On June 9, 2024

In History, Non-Fiction, Theology/Christian Living

Strange Religion:
How the First Christians Were Weird, Dangerous, and Compelling

by Nijay K. Gupta

DETAILS:
Publisher: Brazos Press    
Publication Date: February 27, 2024
Format: Paperback
Length: 216 pg.
Read Date: May 12-19, 2024

I set out to spend a few years studying ancient religions in general and Roman religion in particular, and I came to a clear conclusion: by and large, early Christians were weird and were dangerous to many, and yet clearly some found this religion attractive and compelling.

This book is not a handbook for how to be Christian today or how to create a “weird” church. Largely, I see the work I have done as descriptive—these are the first Christians, warts and all. They were not bucking conventions and pop religion to be special or different. In their best and most genuine moments, they were simply following Jesus, like mice blindly chasing after the pied piper. As they did so, they deviated from the norm of religion, and, whether they were intend. ing to or not, they stood out in society. This deviation from the norm is one way of defining what it means to be “weird. Another way is simply to say that “weird” things belong in another category. l am hoping that an extended investigation of the belies, practices, and ethos of the early Christians will clarify their origins and foundations, and provide insight into authentic Christianity today.

What’s Strange Religion About?

Gupta’s observation/conclusion is that early Christians were strange or weird when compared to others in their culture—thanks to their beliefs, ways of acting, and ways they wouldn’t act (for starters). They didn’t set out to be strange, to rebel against the culture, or anything like that. Actually, their goals involved being good citizens and living quiet lives—but their religious convictions set them outside the norm, and they stayed there for a good long time.

While Gupta doesn’t shy away from the occasional application to the contemporary Western (particularly American) Church, by and large, this is a descriptive book. He just talks about Roman culture in certain areas and then talks about how Christians were oddballs in the midst of all that. As he says above—this isn’t an attempt to make Christianity weird again, or anything like that—just to remind us how out of touch with the culture we were at one point.

Some of the areas he covers are: how the Romans of the first couple of centuries saw Christianity as a superstition; some early Christian beliefs—like believing they were possessed by God’s Spirit, their reckoning of the meaning of Time, and wanting to be associated with a horrible criminal in the first place (only the worst of the worst were crucified, who’d want to be associated with someone like that?); worship practices; family practices; and the way they treated others.

Belief

Romans sometimes argued about the gods—not over personal “beliefs” but over what they thought was true of the gods, But the Christians took their views to a whole other level, “believing” things that seemed absurd, disturbing, and even impossible. This may be one reason that Christians originally referred to themselves as “believers.” Today, we take for granted that religion is all about “faith” and “belief.” We have “faith” statements, “faith” traditions, and “interfaith” dialogue. But in the ancient world, there wasn’t this natural association between religion and faith language.

This is one of the biggest differences—one that shapes a lot of the rest. The book as a whole comes from Gupta’s students asking, why early Christians called themselves “believers,” what did the other followers of other religions call themselves? And well, one of Gupta’s findings was that Christians were more than a little strange by focusing on faith and belief. It was just foreign to the status quo.

The priests of public Roman religion were not chosen for their piety. They were expected to be experts in performing rituals. In fact, they had to be masters of religious arts so as to maintain the pax deorum*. It was a bit like being a professional bomb-disposal expert. It really doesn’t matter what you believe about government, law enforcement, or justice as long as you are good at defusing bombs. French historian and archaeologist Robert Turcan refers to Roman ritual worship as “Taylorism”—a form of scientific management. Frederick Winslow Taylor (1856-1915) developed a theory of management that was meant to produce efficient and effective workflow. Taylor offered a kind of mathematical formula to get the most out of human and industrial resources. Turcan argues that this was the mentality of the Romans—efficient and “successful” ritual performance to keep the gods content and happy. Roman priests and other cultic personnel had to provide meticulous observance of time-honored rituals.

He goes further:

There was a pervasive Roman understanding that persona beliefs, best intentions, and heartfelt emotion did not enhance religion. What mattered was what the gods actually called for—sacrifice and compliance. The early Christians had ther own practices and rituals, of course…But one thing we learn when we read the New Testament is that these Jesus people were absolutely obsessed with belief.

Now, Gupta spends twenty pages making that case, I just gave a brief overview—but even here, you can get an idea of how he goes about talking about each topic addressed.

* “Keeping Peace with the Gods.” Gupta describes the function of the sacrifices and rituals as maintaining this peace. It’s most of the content of the first chapter, and the basis for most of the rest of the book.

Pobody’s Nerfect

The last chapter* is entitled “The Christians Were Not Perfect”—some of this covers similar ideas as Nadya Williams’ book, Cultural Christians in the Early Church, but not all of it.

I really appreciated this chapter for a couple of reasons: 1. It’d be easy to take Gupta’s material and walk away with the idea that the early Christians had it all together (something that Williams and Guptareally wanted to counter), and 2. Gupta hits on some things that a lot of people don’t cover along these lines.

That said, it’s not a perfect chapter—and maybe it’s the most obviously imperfect chapter—I’m not sure I’m willing to buy into all of his examples from the Scriptures showing those imperfections (actually, there are some I’m sure I don’t buy).

But the chapter as a whole is a nice, refreshing reminder about the feet of clay that even the best of us possess.

* There is a conclusion following it, but it’s not long enough (or something) to be considered a chapter—at least not a numbered one. I wanted to stress that because I’ve complained recently about too many books not having a conclusion.

So, what did I think about Strange Religion?

One thing I haven’t talked about yet is that one of the things that Gupta focuses on is that despite—or maybe because of—the strangeness of Christianity to the Romans of the first and second centuries is that it was attractive to them. The “freaks” kept drawing more and more people to them, converting them to the weirdness. Again—not because they were strange, but because following Jesus Christ made them that way.

As a reader, not only did I appreciate the material, but the way that Gupta presented it. He built his arguments carefully and clearly (and one assumes accurately). Throughout all of this Gupta’s sense of humor shines through—keeping the text engaging as it educates. I’m always going to say good things about a book that does that (as long as the humor doesn’t detract from the serious material), and Gupta got this part right.

This is really one of the better books that I’ve read this year. From the thesis to the conclusion, and most points in between, Gupta painted a much-needed picture of early Christianity and Christians and how they related to the culture around them. It’s encouraging to remember that’s the natural state of the Church and one that we shouldn’t find ourselves overly-worried to be in again. I encourage Christians and those curious about our early history to give it a read.

I know that my wife has another book by Gupta on her shelves, I’m probably going to have to borrow it soon.

4 Stars

Cultural Christians in the Early Church by Nadya Williams: Same Song, Older Verses

By HCNewton

On April 21, 2024

In History, Non-Fiction, Theology/Christian Living

It’s done. It’s not good—or what I wanted it to be—but it’s done. Finally.

Cultural Christians in the Early Church:
A Historical and Practical Introduction
to Christians in the Greco-Roman World

by Nadya Williams

DETAILS:
Publisher: Zondervan Academic
Publication Date: November 14, 2023
Format: Paperback
Length: 207 pg.
Read Date: January 7-14, 2024

What’s Cultural Christians in the Early Church About?

First, let’s define “Cultural Christian”—for Williams, they’re “individuals who self-identify as Christians, but whose outward behavior, and, to the extent that we can tell, inward thoughts and motivations are largely influenced by the surrounding culture rather than by their Christian faith and teachings of Jesus.” It’s easy to find examples of these types of Christians today—and many ministers will talk about the struggle to minister in some areas (like the Bible Belt) because of this phenomenon. But clearly, from the title of this book, Williams holds they were present in the Early Church.

She has three reasons for writing (or reading) this book—the first is to combat the idea that the Early Church was too spiritual and correct to have to deal with these individuals—and because of that we can have some problematic ideas about the Church today. Secondly, because of our historical ignorance, we can fail to see how the Early Church was influenced by the culture around them. Third, if we see how the Early Church is susceptible to this, and that we are, too—we can more easily see the need to push beyond Cultural Christianity to the genuine article.

To pursue these aims, Williams considers Early Church History (the first five centuries A.D.) in three eras:

“Part 1 focuses on cultural Christians in the New Testament era and considers sins resulting from Christians’ culturally inspired treatment of property, food and drink, and sexuality.”

“Part 2 moves past the New Testament period and considers apostasy, the gendered nature of sin, and the sin of self-care among cultural Christians in the second and third centuries CE.”

“part 3 looks at the shifts that occurred after Constantine’s conversion, when Christianity went from being a persecuted minority to a privileged minority, and eventually, a privileged majority religion in the empire. How did the conversion of Constantine change the story of cultural Christianity in the church? The answer, we will see, is the rise of new forms of cultural Christianity, which were not possible when the Christians were a persecuted minority.”

Average Believers

Most books that I’ve read on or around these years in Church History focus on the heavyweight theologians and Church Leaders of the time—those people whose names we still recognize, who played significant roles in the development of Creeds and Dogmas, etc. And yes, Williams does cite and discuss some of them.

But her focus is on average believers—people like you (probably) and me. People who will never be cited in a history text, people that few will know existed 10 years after we die. But people who leave records, or who will be talked about (at least in aggregate) by others.

Again, this is not to say that the “big names” of history are ignored—for one thing, it’s frequently through them that we have records of, and access to, the average person. But to get a real flavor of what life is like we don’t just need the theological tracts and creeds, we need to know what people ate, wore, did for a living, and so on.

So, what did I think about Cultural Christians in the Early Church?

I absolutely loved this book and have brought it up in casual conversation a lot over the last couple of months (and repeatedly tossed out drafts of this post because I didn’t like it enough).

Because this book isn’t just a history, it’s about the current Church, too. How we are susceptible to the same—or similar—foibles. Frequently, the reader can see this just by reading the historical portions and reflecting (it usually doesn’t take deep reflection). But Williams will also focus on parallels, or draw out clear lines of comparison. This is a call to the reader to think about their own beliefs and practices and to examine them—are they based on Scripture or are they based on the culture around us?

While we may think that we are removed from the world of the early church, the nature of human sinfulness has not changed. The stories of these early Christians, therefore, are surprisingly familiar and convicting, if only we look closely. While it is at times jarring to admit, their stories are our stories too.

We have the same feet of clay as our forefathers did—and the same challenges to overcome. Thankfully, we have the same Savior. This book helps us to remember that—and I encourage everyone to pick this up (and not just so you don’t have to hear me do it in person).

4 Stars

Empowered Witness: Politics, Culture, and the Spiritual Mission of the Church by Alan D. Strange: A Case Study and a Call to Act

By HCNewton

On March 24, 2024

In History, Non-Fiction, Politics/Current Affairs, Theology/Christian Living

Empowered Witness:
Politics, Culture, and the
Spiritual Mission of the Church

by Alan D. Strange

DETAILS: 
Publisher: Crossway
Publication Date: February 13, 2024
Format: Paperback
Length: 127 pg.
Read Date: February 11-18, 2024

The church is not presented in the Bible as simply another voice in the competing cacophony of shouted slogans but rather that still small voice that testifies to what God has done for us in Christ, that he so loved the world that he gave Christ to die for it, so that all who believe in him should not perish but have everlasting life (John 3:16). This is the message of the church, and to reduce it to a mere political agenda is to sell short the glory of the gospel. The Christian faith is not, at its heart, a political message but a spiritual one. A doctrine of the spirituality of the church, properly conceived, holds fast to this thrust and permits the church to maintain fidelity to the Christian message while keeping in check any address that it might consider necessary respecting matters in the civil and political sphere.

What’s Empowered Witness About?

This is one of those books where if I’m not careful I’m going to end up restating and interacting with the entire argument of the book. So we’re going to be careful…

The Publisher’s site says:

Rediscovering the Spirituality of the Church in Our Highly Politicized Age

The goal of the church should be simple—share the gospel to the ends of the earth. But in our highly politicized age, Christians can tend to place earthly political and social agendas over God’s spiritual mission of the church.

In Empowered Witness, author Alan D. Strange examines the doctrine of the spirituality of the church, making a clear distinction between the functions of the church and other institutions. Strange argues that if the church continues to push political agendas, no institution will be focused solely on the Great Commission and the gospel will be lost entirely. This book calls readers to become aware of the church’s power and limits and shed light on moral issues in a way that doesn’t alter the deeply spiritual and gospel-centered mission of the church.

The Doctrine Under Consideration

This quotation from Charles Hodge offers a good (yet partial) definition:

It is the doctrine of the Scriptures and of the Presbyterian Church, that the kingdom of Christ is not of this world; that it is not subject as to faith, worship, or discipline, to the authority of the state; and that it has no right to interfere with the state, or give ecclesiastical judgment in matters pertaining to state policy.

The Spirituality of the Church focuses on the Church’s Spiritual Mission—to proclaim the gospel and help change the lives of believers—and calls the church to remember that’s her mission and to keep her from becoming entangled with or too immersed in the concerns of this world, with the power/goals of the State, and so on.

This doesn’t mean that the Church cannot—ought not—speak to the culture or State as it regards morality or spiritual issues, but it ought not get into the details of the political realities or functions.

The Structure of the Book

Let me just show you the Table of Contents first,

Chapter 1: The Doctrine of the Spirituality of the Church
Chapter 2: Slavery and the Spirituality of the Church
Chapter 3: The Spirituality of the Church Preceding the US Civil War
Chapter 4: The Spirituality of the Church and the General Assemblies of 1862–1865
Chapter 5: The Southern Church and the Reunion of the Northern Church
Chapter 6: The Spirituality of the Church and Politics Today

As you can see, the bulk of the book focuses on the middle of the Nineteenth Century and the Church (primarily the Presbyterian Church in the US)—and Charles Hodge was one of the leading voices and thinkers of the time. The book uses Hodge (and others to lesser extents) as a case study to see how this doctrine can be applied. Strange calls the story of the Presbyterian Church of the 1800s a “great cautionary tale”—you will not see a lot of hero-worship here. The Church didn’t live up to her calling, but we today can learn from their failings.

Strikingly, many of those who differed with and opposed Hodge (or that he differed with and opposed) held to the same doctrine. One of the strengths of Chapters 2-5 is that we see that this isn’t a “magic bullet” ensuring unity amongst believers that we can use to get the world/governments to do the things we want.

So, what did I think about Empowered Witness?

Every decision that the church as church takes needs to be justified in the light of the spirituality of the church, answering positively a question like “Does this advance the true spiritual task/calling/mission of the church?” Endorsing a political candidate and taking a position on a tax bill arguably does not pertain to or advance the cause of the gospel…

Saying this, though, does not remove the difficulty of defining what is spiritual vis-a-vis what is more purely political. One mans “purely political” may be another man’s “civil consequences of a proper spirituality.” Nothing will save us from the debate over whether a matter pertains to the proper spirituality of the church or falls under the more purely political items that should not concern the church. And there are those on both left and right, particularly hard-liners, who see everything as political, so that all political issues are moral and all moral issues are purely political.

This is not the book I expected from the description or even the title. This is both a complaint and a reaction. However, the book’s concept is probably a better idea than what I expected.

So rather than a purely theoretical or scholarly presentation and analysis of The Spirituality of the Church, or one looking at how to address contemporary issues, controversies, and discussions from that point of view—we get a look at how historical figures dealt with it. This allows the reader to see examples of the application of the doctrine to the real world (avoiding the problems of the first strategy) or distracting readers who may differ from the author when it comes to contemporary issues (avoiding problems of the second strategy). So by focusing on historical figures approaching a topic that most readers are familiar with, and are (likely?) largely settled about the events and how things played out, we can see how the various figures applied the doctrine without getting too worked up or distracted.

This also allows Strange to be critical of every figure he talked about when necessary—historical distance can be helpful.

I’ve seen a some mild criticism of Strange’s descriptions of the positions of James Thornwell and Stuart Robinson in distinction from Hodge—but they were mild (and the person who made those criticisms was largely positive toward the book otherwise). And I imagine there are some who’d want to pick a little on his depiction of Hodge and his position, too. But no one is going to challenge Strange’s grasp on the overall discussions and positions—this is an area he’s devoted years to and it shows.

Nor does this book try to answer every question, address every angle or objection—it’s the beginning of a consideration, an invitation to a conversation—one that each reader should have with those around them.

I ended up relishing the experience of reading this book and gleaned so much from it—and I really want to read the dissertation this was based on now (a healthy TBR stack is all that’s preventing me from jumping on it now). Chapter 1, “The Doctrine of the Spirituality of the Church” (with the introduction) and Chapter 6, “The Spirituality of the Church and Politics Today” serve as good bookends, ensuring that this isn’t just a historical discussion, but one that’s vital to readers and believers today—without being so expansive or long that Strange will put off readers who differ from him.

The more I think about this book, the more I like it. I’ve spent more time talking about it with others than I do most books—and have ended up chewing on it more after those conversations—the more time you spend with Strange, Hodge, and those events/ideas under consideration, the greater your appreciation is likely to be. Empowered Witness is an easy (enough) read, but deals with thought-provoking topics in a thoughtful way, so you’re not going to race through this. You’re going to walk away from this impressed with the Nineteenth Century figures (even if you were already appreciative with them) and wondering where you can read more people like them. Strange has done us a service with this book, and hopefully, it bears good fruit.

4 1/2 Stars

Zwingli the Pastor: A Life in Conflict by Stephen Brett Eccher: A Look at The Reformer’s Most Important Work

By HCNewton

On March 17, 2024

In History, Non-Fiction, Theology/Christian Living

Zwingli the Pastor:
A Life in Conflict

by Stephen Brett Eccher

DETAILS:
Publisher:  Lexham Press
Publication Date: March 20, 2024
Format: eARC
Length: 288 pg.
Read Date: February 25-March 10, 2024

What’s Zwingli the Pastor About?

Of the first-generation—or Magisterial—reformers, Huldrych/Ulrich Zwingli is probably the least known today—and a lot of what carries his name popularly isn’t necessarily reflective of his actual positions. From what I’ve heard, there’s somewhat of a resurgence of interest and scholarship in Zwingli. Stephen Brett Eccher brings us this introduction to the reformer as part of that.

This is not a biography of Zwingli, nor is it an in-depth examination of his theological insights and writing. As the title suggests, it’s a look at his pastoral work. His life was defined by conflict, and that’s true as well for his ministry.

After a quick overview of his life, including his pastoral work pre-Zurich, Eccher looks at Zwingli’s pastorate topically rather than chronologically. His focus wasn’t on changing the Church throughout the world, or making history (although he did both)—Zwingli’s focus was ministering to the people of Zurich in the pulpit, in their homes, in sickness, and in rapidly changing times.

Disagreeing with Zwingli

I’m not going to argue that an author writing a book about someone else needs to be in lockstep with him (or how could anyone ever write a book about anyone?). But if you disagree with your subject on significant points (and I think this is more true when it comes to theological points than otherwise), you need to exercise care in describing the subject’s positions you differ with—and those people who differed with him. I think Eccher tried, but he could’ve been more successful at it.

The book is critical of Zwingli—in both his actions and teachings—and Eccher handled that well.* It was when (for example) he would describe Zurich’s Anabaptists as they began to disagree with Zwingli, that he stumbled. He never came out and said, “they were right to separate from him over this,” but the tone suggested both that on point X they were obviously correct and it’s not even worth discussing how they were. Even if he did circle back to point X in a few pages or chapters to discuss it properly, it didn’t seem to me that he really gave Zwingli a fair shake on these points, and just assumed that the Anabaptists (or whoever) were correct and that readers already agreed with Eccher (and didn’t necessarily describe Zwingli’s position to the extent he maybe should’ve).

* Largely, anyway. There are a few sentences that I’d like to challenge Eccher to explain/defend. But I’m not going to get lost in the weeds here.

Not knowing that many details about Zwingli on some of these points, I could be wrong about this. Perhaps Eccher didn’t get into details and nuances because they aren’t present on these points of difference. But it didn’t seem like that to me—and I’m just trying to describe my reaction to the text as a reader.

The Structure of the Chapters

Given everything that Eccher sets out to accomplish (and largely succeeds in doing so), this is a pretty short book*. And I’d imagine that Eccher would want to feature some tight writing to facilitate him meeting his agenda. But he doesn’t, each chapter** starts with an introduction set in contemporary Zurich (or somewhere else in Switzerland), and then he comes to a point leading into the chapter.

* It’s listed at 288 pages, in my electronic version, only 65% of the book makes up the text, the rest is bibliography, indices, etc. Which makes this a very short—but dense—read.
** There might be an exception or two to this, but the point stands. And those exceptions will be very similar.

Then it feels like he backs up to set the historical stage, talk about some of the development in Zwingli’s life/thought/ministry before getting to that introductory point, developing it, and then reaching some kind of conclusion.

I’m not doing the best job of describing the structure, but that’s the gist of it. I think it would’ve been far more economical to cut everything before the point where Eccher backs up and sets the historical stage. I don’t think the glances at contemporary Zurich, etc. added anything to the book beyond word/page count. They didn’t detract from anything, but if they added anything I missed it.

And I’m not sure that we needed the brief introductory summary of the chapter’s point, either. At best, they meant you knew where each chapter was heading (if you couldn’t guess from the chapter title)—at worst, I think they took some of the punch of the points away, because you were waiting for them to show up.

This could just be me. It wouldn’t surprise me a whole lot to find that most readers appreciate one or both of these devices (obviously Eccher and his editor(s) liked them). But by the second time I saw him use them, I got a little tired of it—and it needled me every subsequent time.

Five Theses

Eccher completes the book with “Five Theses on Zwingli.” These are summaries of aspects of his thinking/teaching and Eccher’s reflection of them as a whole. His greatest criticisms of the Reformer are presented and explained here. (and frankly, it’s here that Eccher annoyed me more than elsewhere) I would’ve liked each thesis to have been given more space and more development—50-100% more space each, I think it would’ve made them stronger.

That said, this kind of wrap-up/conclusion is a great way to structure the book and complete the examination of Zwingli. I heartily appreciated it.

So, what did I think about Zwingli the Pastor?

Let me start this section by stressing that the above sections described minor things that niggled at me while I read—they are by no means major complaints or shortcomings. But it just takes a while longer to describe something like that than to pay a compliment. And I have several compliments to offer.

For example, the chapters on Zwingli’s ministry during the time of plague—and the devastating impact it had on his life—and his marriage were very strong. The description of the infamous Affair of the Sausages, the lead-up to it, and the fallout from it was another strong point. Eccher went to great pains to show the influence of others—historic and contemporary to Zwingli—on his thinking and actions. As much as people talk about Erasmus’ influence on Luther (largely Luther reacting against Erasmus), it was good to see Erasmus’ influence bearing such positive fruit in Zwingli (much to Erasmus’ woe, I’m sure) up to the point where the two split. Actually, I’m going to cut myself off here before I just start listing the Table of Contents (I could). I do wish we’d gotten a little more describing the circumstances of his death—that portion of the book felt rushed.

One strength of this book is that it avoided the temptation to turn Zwingli into a 21st-century type of Evangelical, or someone who agreed with the author in almost every way. So often when reading a book about a lesser-known figure in church history, you can get the feeling that the author is saying “outside of this little quirk or that, mostly because of their place in history; this guy is just like me.” Eccher doesn’t say that—he seems to admire a lot about Zwingli, but he’s by no mean prone to hero worship or whitewashing any perceived shortcoming.

Going into this book I had only a rudimentary familiarity with Huldrych/Ulrich Zwingli, and while I’ve often thought about addressing that, I hadn’t. This book hasn’t given me a complete and exhaustive look at him by any means—and wouldn’t claim that. But it’s a great, broad introduction to his work and thought. I feel equipped now to go out and read some of his works, and other books about particular aspects of his theology, having this book give me the overall lay of the land.

I encourage others who are looking for a place to start with this often overlooked Reformer to give this a read. If only so it can spur you to further reading and investigation—like I think it has for me—but you’ll know where to dig in.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Lexham Press via NetGalley—thanks to both for this.

4 Stars

Who Chose the Gospels?: Probing the Great Gospel Conspiracy by C. E. Hill: Robert Langdon Might Have Been on the Wrong Track (shocking, I know)

By HCNewton

On October 1, 2023

In History, Non-Fiction, Theology/Christian Living

Who Chose the Gospels?:
Probing the Great Gospel Conspiracy

by C. E. Hill

DETAILS:
Publisher: Oxford University Press, USA
Publication Date: April 7, 2012
Format: Paperback
Length: 247 pg.
Read Date: September 10-24, 2023

All this presents a rather sticky problem. Recall that in Professor Ehrman’s political interpretation of church history it isn’t until the fourth century that the ‘orthodox’ party finally ‘sealed its victory over all of its opponents’, At that time ‘it rewrote the history of the engagement’, claiming that its views were passed down from Jesus’ apostles. And yet here is Irenaeus, nearly two centuries earlier, already ‘rewriting history’ long before the victory was sealed. At a time when, many prominent scholars insist, the issue was still very much in doubt, Irenaeus writes as if the church had been nurtured by these four Gospels from the time of the apostles.

The problem with Irenaeus is that he simply wrecks the popular paradigm. His views about the emerging New Testament canon, and about the four Gospels in particular, are simply too well-developed, too mature, to fit the scheme that many have invested themselves in today. As a second-century Christian author who argued that there are, and can only be, four legitimate Gospels—because they alone teach the truth about Jesus and because they alone had been handed down in the church from the time of the apostles—Irenaeus lies like a fallen Redwood in the path of those who would see the choice of the four Gospels as a late and politically motivated manoeuvre of the fourth century.

How do you solve a problem like Irenaeus?

What’s Who Chose the Gospels? About?

That last question in the quotation would work pretty well as an alternate title for the book—how do you solve a problem like Iraneaus? Or, more to the point, how do you ignore his (early date) recognition of only 4 gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—despite what we’re told about the state of gospel availability and canonization by so many today.

Hill examines some of the time frames, uses, content, and provenance of some of the so-called competitor gospels (i.e., those that never were considered canonical) to compare them to both the canonical gospels and those early figures of the Church we see discussing the gospels. But primarily, Hill is concerned with the use of and testimony regarding the canonical gospels—and the evidence regarding their use by the Church and when it started. The overwhelming bulk of the book is focused there.

So, we may now ask, how did the Christian church, apparent drowning in a sea of Gospels, finally end up with only four? The educated reader of today may already have come to the conch. sion that the story was attended with a good bit of bullying intrigue, and skullduggery. Many perhaps picture councils of bad-tempered bishops voting on which books to include in the Bible one minute, and voting to execute heretics the next. As now widely believed, in any case, that the four canonical Gospels emerged into prominence only fairly late from a long and drawnout battle within early Christianity, a battle finally won in the fourth century after the establishment of the church by Constantine the Great. While academics might not, as Teabing does Dan Brown’s novel, attribute the collation of the Bible to ‘pagan emperor Constantine’, many even in the academic community insist that the question of which Gospels the church ought to endorse was still up for grabs in the fourth century.

He also looks a little bit at contemporary theories (both academic and popular) about the development of the canon—insofar as it focuses on the Gospels. He finds it wanting, and somewhat self-contradictory—and talks about that, too. But even as he does so, it’s not the main focus of the book—which is, as said earlier, the four gospels and how the second (and possibly first) century church regarded them, and how that changed (and mostly didn’t change) in the two centuries following.

The Tone of the Book

You probably can’t read it in the image above, but that top blurb is from D.A. Carson and it says, “Not many books that are so informed are such a pleasure to read.” I really didn’t pay much attention to it—and just figured he meant something about how nice it is to have such an informative read or something like that. If for no other reason, it was from Oxford University Press, who are not known for fun reads. I was super duper wrong.

This was a blast to read. Seriously, I had a lot of fun.

Not—and I want to stress, not—because he’s making jokes, being silly, or outrageous or anything like that. There’s just something about Hill’s style. He’s charming (seemingly effortlessly), not in a way that calls attention to itself, but it’s there—a little mild sarcasm, some wordplay, some other bits of humor along the way—but it’s nothing I can point to, and say “there it is!” But time after time while reading this, I found myself grinning for no apparent reason.

That’s just his style—the subject is serious, and frankly, pretty dry. But Hill keeps it from being dry without tuning down the seriousness of both the positive case he’s trying to build and the criticisms he makes toward the other side(s).

So, what did I think about Who Chose the Gospels??

In short, we have no evidence that the church ever sat down collectively or as individual churches and composed criteria for judging which Gospels (or other literature) it thought best suited its needs. On the contrary, the key realization which best explains our inability to find an ultimate ‘chooser’, which best explains why the church didn’t take the easy way out with some kind of singular Gospel and why it never cobbled together a set of criteria to apply to all the Gospel candidates, is that the church essentially did not believe it had a choice in the matter! The question ‘why did you choose these Gospels?’ would not have made sense to many Christians in the second century, for the question assumes that the church, or someone in it, had the authority to make the choice. To many, it would be like the question, ‘why did you choose your parents?

A few other books/chapters that I’ve read on the subject talk about the conclusions Hill draws, and refer to some of the evidence, but Hill’s the first one I’ve read who’s actually “shown the work,” as my math teachers/professors would say. His answers match other scholars, but I can actually see how he got them. For that alone, I enjoyed reading this book and profited from it.

Add in his style? Oh, buddy—now we’re cooking with fire.

Hill is careful and thorough, acknowledging challenges to his position about the emergence of the fourfold Gospel to the place it holds today. But he’s consistent in showing how those challenges don’t have the weight and merit that so many in our culture assume they do. Not to keep picking on it—but the authors/editors of Church History in Plain Language should spend time with this book and others like it before they finish the Sixth Edition—it would really help out with its particularly weak chapter on the Canon.

I think the concluding chapter could’ve been beefed up a little bit. Maybe after a few more readings, I can figure out what it was missing—I just felt it was weak here and there. Or another reading or two will show me that I could’ve paid better attention this time (entirely likely).

Regardless, Who Wrote the Gospels? is a book well worth time and attention—and it’ll repay both.

5 Stars

Church History in Plain Language, Fifth Edition by Bruce Shelley, Revision Editor Marshall Shelley: Gets Too Much Wrong

By HCNewton

On May 28, 2023

In History, Non-Fiction, Theology/Christian Living

Church History in Plain Language, Fifth Edition

by Bruce L. Shelley, Revision Editor: Marshall Shelley

DETAILS:
Publisher: Zondervan Academic
Publication Date: July 13, 2021
Format: E-book
Length: 624 pg.
Read Date: March 27-May 23, 2023

What’s Church History in Plain Language About?

From the Publisher’s website:

Bruce Shelley’s classic history of the church brings the story of global Christianity into the twenty-first century. Like a skilled screenwriter, Shelley begins each chapter with three elements: characters, setting, plot. Taking readers from the early centuries of the church up through the modern era he tells his readers a story of actual people, in a particular situation, taking action or being acted upon, provides a window into the circumstances and historical context, and from there develops the story of a major period or theme of Christian history. Covering recent events, this book also:

Details the rapid growth of evangelical and Pentecostal Christianity in the southern hemisphere

Addresses the decline in traditional mainline denominations

Examines the influence of technology on the spread of the gospel

Discusses how Christianity intersects with other religions in countries all over the world

For this fifth edition, Marshall Shelley brought together a team of historians, historical theologians, and editors to revise and update this father’s classic text. The new edition adds important stories of the development of Christianity in Asia, India, and Africa, both in the early church as well as in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. It also highlights the stories of women and non-Europeans who significantly influenced the development of Christianity but whose contributions are often overlooked in previous overviews of church history.

This concise book provides an easy-to-read guide to church history with intellectual substance. The new edition of Church History in Plain Language promises to set a new standard for readable church history.

Bad History

This book is just filled with errors—or questionable statements. The one that threw me for a loop was the description of the Council of Nicea, when the text cites the Nicene Creed (325) saying that this is the one that was agreed upon there. But what is cited is the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed (from 381) with the Filioque clause (from 1014). Humbug.

The section on Calvin was a mess. In a discussion, I summed up the section on English Puritans as, “Tell me you’ve never read the Puritans without saying you’ve never read the Puritans.” It’s one thing for Max Weber or H.L. Mencken to mischaracterize them, it’s something else for fellow believers to do it.

And the Crusades? They’re given a tiny amount of space (I’ll be generous and say 6 pages…1 percent of the total work), and the explanation of them is half-hearted at best. Given that people of several faiths (and those without faith) still use the Crusades to evaluate Christianity and the way it interacts with the rest of the world, the reader is not well served that they’re given short shrift.

And I’m no historian—I’m a hobbyist at best when it comes to a couple of time periods in Church History. If I can find problems like that—off of one reading—how many more are there? (this is not an exhaustive list of the problems I noted, just some of the more glaring ones—and ones that I’m more confident in).

The Problem of Perspective

The perspective of this book comes from all over the place. Whatever Shelley did in revising this, he didn’t edit it enough so that the perspective is unified. That’d be okay if each chapter/part of a chapter was identified by a particular contributor. Chapter X is by Y, from such-and-such School/Background. Chapter A is by B, from this other Church. Then you could understand where divergent voices are coming from and understand some of the prejudices (as much or as little as they’re tried to be eliminated).

But here, it’s presented as one voice—when it clearly isn’t—and the perspective isn’t identified. So we get this section with a heavy Anabaptist sympathy, another section with some latent Modalism, some Dispensationalism, and so on.

I just kept getting whiplash as I’d read, where was this coming from?

So, what did I think about Church History in Plain Language?

For a few weeks, I’d been leaning toward giving this 2 Stars (but hoping something would make me change my mind so I could give it at least 3). At least the scope of this work should cause me to give it the benefit of the doubt.

But…I just can’t do that. If you can’t get something so basic as the history and content of the Nicene Creed right, it’s a problem. This is a history book, you should, you know…get the history right. I’ve got other examples—but this is sufficient. If you can’t get the big things like this right, why should I trust you in the lesser?

A bigger problem is being as casual about Christology as this is. If you’re going to be writing a book of Church History, you should get the essentials right. Again, I have other examples—but why? And again, if you’re not trustworthy here, why should I trust you elsewhere?

Now, I’ve been intending on reading this book since I was in college—it was probably the Second Edition that my roommate had on his shelf (but who knows, maybe it was the first). But I hadn’t gotten around to it. I really wish I had read it then, so I’d know how much of the weaknesses of this edition were characteristic of Bruce L. Shelley and how much comes from his son and his collaborators in this mess.

It’s a history book—at most, it should interest and educate a reader—it should not make the reader upset, much less angry. And I got angry multiple times.

At the end of the day, this was a waste of 600+ pages and a whole lot of my time. Avoid this.

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

5 Puritan Women by Jenny-Lyn de Klerk: Brief Portraits of Women You Should Meet

By HCNewton

On April 9, 2023

In (Auto)Biography, Non-Fiction, Theology/Christian Living

5 Puritan Women:
Portraits of Faith and Love

by Jenny-Lyn de Klerk

DETAILS:
Publisher: Crossway
Publication Date: February 07, 2023
Format: Paperback
Length: 137
Read Date: March 26, 2023

What’s 5 Puritan Women About?

Agnes Beaumont, Lucy Hutchinson, Mary Rich, Anne Bradstreet, and Lady Brilliana Harley. Names you probably don’t know—well, maybe Anne Bradstreet is familiar to you. Especially if you ever read any poetry from the New England colonies (probably against your will—nothing against them, but I can’t imagine anyone seeking it out outside of High School/College literature classes). These five women are from (roughly) the Puritan era of British and American History and are brought to the reader’s attention here.

de Klerk writes and speaks frequently on the Puritans and noticed that notable Puritan women are often overlooked, so she highlights these here to bring their contributions forward. Each of them contributed in their own ways—for their family, for the support of the ministry, for the culture, and for the people in the immediate orbit.

Agnes Beaumont was a member of John Bunyan’s congregation who fought off several false accusations about her (and him). Lucy Hutchinson was a well-educated woman who wrote a good deal, including a systematic theology for her daughter. Mary Rich was noted for her benevolence and charity. Anne Bradstreet made a name for herself with her poetry, as I somewhat snidely mentioned before. Lady Brilliana Harley’s correspondence was the source of sage and godly advice. I’m doing a lousy job of summarizing this—but I just tried to do in this paragraph what de Klerk spent a book on.

Here’s My Beef with 5 Puritan Women…

I can’t get my hands on the primary sources. Okay, some of Bradstreet’s poems are in the edition of Norton Anthology of American Literature I used in my undergrad days, so I can re-read those. But Lady Harley’s letters and Lucy Hutchinson’s systematic would be fantastic to read. Can I get those? Not that I can find. You can get Hutchinson’s works for a few hundred dollars, or some sketchy-looking ebooks of some of her works, but nothing affordable.

I’d love to hear that Reformation Heritage, Christian Focus, or Banner of Truth was working on making these works accessible to contemporary readers—even better if de Klerk was working on editing those herself, as she clearly has some sort of affinity for them.

In the meantime, I’m just going to grouse about this a bit—de Klerk makes you want to get to know these women better through their written works, but when they’re not available….it’s just mean.

So, what did I think about 5 Puritan Women?

I really appreciated this book and de Klerk’s style. The writing is clear, approachable, and affable—this isn’t a stuffy introduction to figures from the past, but someone telling you about people she’s come to know and is excited about.

I’m not sure the pairing of the women with Puritan disciplines really adds that much. It’s an okay handle and way to approach things, but I really didn’t need that, their stories and experiences were enough on their own. Your results may vary, obviously, this might be one of the more valuable aspects for some readers.

I recommend this quick and engaging read to all those who are interested in some of those figures in Church History too often overlooked—particularly if you have any affinity for or curiosity about the Puritans—it’s a great reminder that for every John Owen or John Bunyan, there are several other faithful servants we could and should get to know. I found it inspiring, interesting, and even a little moving. I’d definitely read expanded works on any of these—or a sequel, 5 More Puritan Women.

3.5 Stars

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