This Reformation Moment

Two weeks. Given the information we had at the time, this was how long the pastors and elders decided to suspend in-person gatherings here at Oak Hill. The same afternoon, the Governor of Massachusetts announced a ban on gatherings over 25 people along with other emergency orders. Two weeks became three.

Three weeks became two months.

Those two months have merged into seven months (and counting) of a season disrupted by a virus infecting nearly every aspect of our daily lives. While we've resumed in-person gatherings, they are not the same.

From the beginning of COVID-19's intrusion, I've been wondering, "What are you doing, God? I want to pay attention."

Throughout Church history, there appears to be a pattern where every 500 years there's a significant, corrective shift in the expression of the Body of Christ. With historians dating the last one at 1517, we've been due for another. Is now the time?

Out of necessity, my mind-shifted toward looking at the "form" of "Church." What is church supposed to look like? Have we morphed from the organic family we've been called to and have we become more of an organized club? Are we shaped more by corporate America than One who became flesh? Are we stuck in “ruts” and “tradition”?

While the "function" of the Church hasn't changed since Jesus said, "Go" the "form" has. Is this "reforming" a call back to basics and a reminder of what we are to be as a body? A rediscovery of ecclesiology? In a way, it is, but I'm wondering if it's more than that. For what it's worth, here's what I'm thinking.

The last reformation was marked by protest; I think the current one is marked by protest(s) as well.

In rediscovering the doctrines of grace, Martin Luther challenged the understanding and practices of the broader Church. 95 theses outlined his concerns. Out of love for the truth and from a desire to make it clear, this 16th-century monk sparked a movement reclaiming transformational truth for the Bride of Christ. Where the Protestant Reformation highlighted the importance of salvation by grace, I believe the current reformation emphasizes what this salvation is for.

In a highly individualized, consumeristic American culture, our concept of what “salvation is for” tends to be highly-individualized (and arguably consumeristic.) We miss the societal implications. The "Me & Jesus" mentality has stifled the health, vibrancy, and growth of the Church in America. In a year characterized by COVID-19 along with widespread protests spotlighting injustice, I think the current reformation has to do with reclaiming the doctrine of righteousness, also translated as "justice."

We do a disservice to ourselves and others by simply viewing "righteousness" as relating only to our standing before God. It captures so much more. How we understand justice and our participation with God in propagating it reflects the Church's witness. I’d suggest most professing Christians in the US have an Americanized, punitive understanding of "justice" and not a biblical one. The rich, multi-faceted view of righteousness, of biblical justice, needs to be rediscovered.

If this is the current reformation, I wondered, "Where are the '95 Theses'? What is the catalyst sparking it this time?"

Over the last six months, Tim Keller has posted a four-part series on justice and race. With each post longer than the last, I think he has accurately summarized a broad and beautiful understanding of biblical justice. (If you haven't read them, I highly recommend you take the time to. If you only have time for one, read Part 4. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, & Part 4.) The response to his posts have been… interesting? Keller has been labeled a "Marxist" or, the ultimate American-Christianish slur, "Leftist" (Sidenote: how "far-right" do you need to be for Tim Keller to be considered "left"?)

"Are these it?" I wondered. "Are these the modern '95 Theses', because he really nailed it." (Always intend your puns. Especially if they’re bad. Go all in.)

Upon further reflection, I don't think they are. I do believe they are part of this reformation moment, perhaps in a similar way as Calvin's "Institutes." I think this reformation moment was sparked decades before by Martin Luther.

Not the monk. Martin Luther King, Jr.

The call to reclaim the doctrine of righteousness, this invitation to ministers of the gospel to participate in the restorative work of justice came from a man in prison. A few years ago, another pastor shared with me how every Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, he would read "Letter from a Birmingham Jail." I've started doing that, too. (If you've only read excerpts, I humbly suggest reading the whole thing.) I wonder if this letter is a modern equivalent of what was nailed to the door at Wittenberg.

As I survey the potential for mass division in the Church, holding the severity of a Catholic/Protestant or East/West split, I think this doctrine of justice is a strong contender. With calls for "excommunication" of those some consider "woke," reclaiming biblical justice has the potential to radically transform the Church. It also has the potential to reclaim a function of the Church. Part of the proclamation of the good news of Jesus is a demonstration of the good news of Jesus. This is an active expression of our ministry of reconciliation and, as James puts it, showing our faith with our works. Our early brothers and sisters embodied Christ in such a remarkable way, historians literally made remarks about it. How they treated one another and those on the margins are undeniable characteristics of the first century Church. (And part of its explosive expansion.) Their selflessness and posture towards those on the outside were a witness to the One who came to seek, serve, and save.

I’ve often wondered, if I were me in 1963, would I have responded to Martin Luther King Jr.’s letter. Statistically, as a white evangelical (label pending, more on this sometime), the answer is likely, “No.” I’d like to think I’d be the exception and not the rule. The challenge with reformation is it requires serious reflection and deep repentance. It necessitates humility and a willingness to learn from others, particularly those who have had a different experience than I have. What I know is there’s a lot I don’t know, but I’m eager to continue to learn how to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.