To Contend for the Faith, Part 1

A series of indeterminate number about an almost-preposterous story

Jude 3 weighs on me: “Beloved, while eagerly preparing to write to you about the salvation we share, I find it necessary to write and appeal to you to contend for the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints.” We are not just to teach the faith, but to contend for the faith—and not just any faith. This is the faith once for all entrusted to the saints. What does that mean? It’s another way of talking about the witness of the Apostles. This faith was passed on through Jesus to the Apostles, and through them to trustworthy witnesses across the centuries. Over time, guided by the Holy Spirit, the church would develop in its understanding of this faith. It would come to rely upon a canon of Scripture and particular summaries of the faith, such as the Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed. These beliefs form a minimum standard for what we call Christian orthodoxy.

I know God doesn’t need me to defend his church or the faith it professes. I’m not that important. I have no illusions about the fact that God could raise up stones to witness to him. Yet the Scriptures teach us to contend for the faith, and not just in Jude 3. 1 Peter 3:15-16 reads, “Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence.” In the second letter to Timothy, Paul writes, “Guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us” (2 Tim 1:14). Likewise in 2 Timothy 4:1-5 we read,

In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I solemnly urge you: proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable; convince, rebuke, and encourage, with the utmost patience in teaching. For the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander away to myths.

As uncomfortable as it may be at times, the Bible admonishes us to contend for the apostolic faith.

To be clear, the Bible doesn’t admonish us to be jerks. But Jesus turned over tables! will come the response. Fine, but he only did it once, and you’re not Jesus. Perhaps some reflection is in order before the table-flipping commences. As we read earlier, Peter urges us to make our defense with gentleness and reverence. To proceed in this way isn’t a sign of weakness. You’re not a squish if you don’t crush people on Twitter when they make heretical statements. You’re not simply succumbing to the rules of polite society. You’re being obedient. What’s more, just on a practical level, I can’t think of anyone who has been brought to an acknowledgement of the truth by being browbeaten or humiliated in public.

Photo by Peggy Anke on Unsplash

That doesn’t mean, however, that we will coast along with smooth words that give no offense. The Bible doesn’t instruct us to be jerks, but it does instruct us to tell the truth. As Christians, it’s imperative that we speak truthfully, and sometimes truthfulness hurts. Giving offense is an unavoidable consequence of the proclamation of the Good News. Friends have poked fun at me about how many people I’ve sent into a state of rage-filled apoplexy with my writings over the years. I can’t think of a time, though, when I’ve set out to make anyone mad or to stir up controversy. Generally speaking, I try to get along with people and to maintain friendships across ideological and theological lines. I also, however, try to speak truthfully, even if I do so imperfectly. Truthful speech will make people angry. Deal with it.

At the risk of continuing this ire-inducing trend, I want to reflect in a series of posts on my own journey toward and within the historic faith of the church. There are all kinds of names for this faith. We could call it “Christian orthodoxy” or the “Nicene-Chalcedonian” tradition. We could use the language of Vincent of Lerins and refer to it as the faith confessed “everywhere, always, and by all.” We could use Billy Abraham’s language of the “canonical tradition.” I think, however, it would be best to go with Thomas Oden’s term, the “consensual tradition.” Over time, a consensus has emerged regarding how best to understand the witness of the Apostles, and it is that consensual tradition in which I self-consciously stand. My hope is that these short reflections on my own journey will help others along the same path.

To stand within the consensual tradition is to hold a set of remarkable claims. Among these are that the God of all creation became human in Jesus Christ, who lived a perfect life. Jesus died on the cross, and when he did, he took all of the gone-wrongness of creation (sin) upon himself, and he created a bridge between humankind and God. We call this “atonement.” After three days, God raised Jesus bodily from the dead, and he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. Yeah… I know… that’s a lot to swallow. But what else would we expect from God? To adopt this account of God’s saving work is to enter into an entirely new understanding of life. It is to take on a relentlessly optimistic and enchanted worldview. When God’s story becomes our story, life takes on depths of meaning we could never have imagined before. God’s story is greater than anything we could ever have made up in the best moment of the best day of our lives.

It would be utterly preposterous if it weren’t true.