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The Challenge of the Evangelical Faith

We have been preoccupied throughout much of this book with the trinitarian shape of the evangelical faith, that is, with the initiative of God in revealing himself, the love of Christ in dying for our sins, and the ministry of the Holy Spirit in facilitating every aspect of our Christian discipleship. More simply, we have focused on the Word, the cross and the Spirit as three essential evangelical emphases.

To be an evangelical Christian, however, is not just to subscribe to an orthodox trinitarian formula. The evangelical faith reaches beyond belief to behaviour; it brings with it a multifaceted challenge to live accordingly.

An outstanding example of this was given by the apostle Paul at the end of the first chapter of his Philippian letter. He refers to ‘the gospel of Christ’ (verse 27a) and to ‘the faith of the gospel’ (verse 27b), that is, to the evangelical faith, and he begs his readers to live appropriately.

Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or only hear about you in my absence, I will know that you stand firm in one spirit, contending as one man for the faith of the gospel ²⁸without being frightened in any way by those who oppose you. This is a sign to them that they will be destroyed, but that you will be saved – and that by God. ²⁹For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for him, ³⁰since you are going through the same struggle you saw I had, and now hear that I still have. (Phil. 1:27–30)

There is something profoundly moving about this appeal. The apostle is a prisoner, either in Rome (as traditionally thought) or in Ephesus (as some hold). In either case he is under house arrest, his liberty is curtailed, and he is unable either to visit the churches he has planted or to engage in more pioneer evangelism. Moreover, his future is full of uncertainty. He realizes that he may be approaching death. Indeed, he feels torn between life and death. His personal desire is ‘to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far’. The churches still need him, however, so that he is fairly sure he will be released and will resume his apostolic labour. Yet beyond both options he longs for the glory of Christ: ‘so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death’ (1:20–26).

‘Whatever happens’, he continues (verse 27), that is, whether he lives or dies, his principal concern is not what will happen to him, but what will happen to the gospel; not for himself and his personal survival, but for the survival and spread of the gospel. It is in the light of this concern that he issues to the Philippians (and so to us) a stirring fivefold summons.

The call for evangelical integrity, or to live a life that is worthy of the gospel

The verb politeuomai, which occurs only twice in the New Testament, meant originally to live as the citizen (politēs) of a city state (polis). Paul may have chosen the word because Philippi was a Roman colony (as Luke correctly stated in Acts 16:12), and its inhabitants as Roman citizens had special privileges and responsibilities. The Christians in Philippi must therefore ensure that their manner of life as citizens was worthy of the gospel. But Paul is surely also referring to their heavenly citizenship. ‘Our citizenship is in heaven,’ he will remind them in 3:20. This gave them even greater privileges and higher responsibilities.

Christians are, in fact, the citizens of two kingdoms. An anonymous defence of Christianity, dating from the middle of the second century, known as The Letter to Diognetus, expressed well this paradox of the Christian life, namely our dual citizenship:

Christians are not distinguished from the rest of humanity by country, language or custom . . . But while they live in both Greek and barbarian cities . . . and follow the local customs in dress and food and other aspects of life, at the same time they demonstrate the remarkable and admittedly unusual character of their own citizenship. They live in their own countries, but only as aliens; they participate in everything as citizens, and endure everything as foreigners . . . They live on earth, but their citizenship is in heaven . . . In a word, what the soul is to the body, Christians are to the world.1

I have entitled this first summons ‘the call for evangelical integrity’ because the concept of living a life that is ‘worthy’ expresses not merit but correspondence. Our conduct is to be in keeping with our calling, with our repentance, with our Lord, and with the God who calls us into his kingdom and glory.2 There is to be no dichotomy between what we profess and what we practise, between what we say and what we are, but rather a fundamental consistency.

The alternative is set before us with great plainness of speech in Paul’s letter to Titus. On the one hand, inconsistent Christian conduct gives people cause to ‘malign the word of God’ and so hinders evangelism. On the other hand, consistent Christian conduct ‘will make the teaching about God our Saviour attractive’ and so will promote evangelism (Titus 2:5, 10). More briefly, bad behaviour discredits the gospel, while good behaviour adorns and so commends it.

Our evangelical forebears went in hot pursuit of what they called ‘scriptural’ or ‘practical’ holiness. They took with great seriousness the frequently repeated command of God to his covenant people ‘Be holy, because I am holy.’ Today, however, some evangelical people seem to acquiesce in low moral standards, which are indistinguishable from those of the world. Others have allowed the quest for holiness to be displaced by the search for social justice or for religious experience. These things are important, but not at the expense of the hunger and thirst for righteousness.

The call for evangelical stability, or to stand firm in the gospel

‘Then, whether I come and see you or only hear about you in my absence, I will know that you stand firm in one spirit . . .’ (verse 27b). The reference to unity we will consider shortly; now we will concentrate on the call to stability. It was this which concerned Paul most. He longed to know (whether by sight or by hearsay) that they were standing firm.

Stability is important in every sphere. We talk about the need for a stable government and a stable economy, about stable buildings and stable characters. And Christian stability obviously meant much to the apostles. So, Luke tells us, they revisited the cities they had evangelized, ‘strengthening’ or establishing the converts (Acts 18:23). They knew the strength of satanic opposition – intellectual (false teaching), moral (temptation) and physical (persecution). Yet God’s ability to ‘establish’ his people was a vital ingredient of Paul’s gospel (Rom. 16:25). So he exhorted them to stand firm. He used the same verb in relation to Christian soldiers, who were to fight against the principalities and powers of evil, to put on the armour of God, and so (four times in Eph. 6:10ff.) to ‘stand’.

Yet stability in both doctrine and ethics is in short supply today. Instead, we seem like fragile boats in an ocean storm, ‘tossed about by the waves and whirled around by every fresh gust of teaching’ (Eph. 4:14, REB). It is much easier to drift with the stream than to swim against it. It takes much less effort to bend like reeds, shaken by the winds of public opinion and political correctness, than to stand firm and immovable like rocks in a mountain torrent. The call to evangelical stability is much needed today. Its chief foundation is the rock of Holy Scripture, that is, of evangelical truth, to which we now turn.

The call for evangelical truth, or to contend for the faith of the gospel

Evidently we are not only to stand firm in the gospel ourselves, but to fight for it in the public arena as well. ‘Contending for the gospel’ might be described as a combination of evangelism and apologetics. It is not enough to proclaim the good news; we have also to defend it and confirm it (verses 7 and 16). The apostles did not separate these tasks. Nor must we. There was a strong element of apologetics in all their evangelism. The apostle Paul could even sum up his ministry by two Greek words which can be translated ‘we persuade people’ (cf. 2 Cor. 5:11). And Luke describes him doing so – arguing the gospel, reasoning with people out of the Scriptures, and convincing them of its truth.

The contemporary church needs to follow the apostolic example. We must be able to say what Paul said to the procurator Festus: ‘I am not insane, most excellent Festus . . . What I am saying is true and reasonable’ (Acts 26:25).

Moreover, we should never set arguments and the Holy Spirit over against each other, declaring that if we are really trusting the Holy Spirit, we will not need arguments, whereas if we do develop arguments, our trust is plainly in them, not in him. This is a grievously false antithesis. For the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of truth, who cares about the truth, teaches the truth and bears witness to the truth. Consequently, truth and the Holy Spirit are entirely compatible, and it is perfectly possible to trust both simultaneously. He brings people to faith in Jesus Christ through our words and arguments, when he enlightens their minds to perceive the truth and feel the force of our own message.

The call for evangelical unity, or to work together for the gospel

Unity is one of the main themes of this letter of Paul’s to the Philippians. There seems to have been some serious discord in the church. We are not told why, but there may be a clue in the three notable conversions which took place during Paul’s missionary visit (Acts 16:11ff.). It would be hard to imagine a more disparate trio, as these converts differed from each other nationally and socially, and perhaps temperamentally as well. Lydia was a wealthy businesswoman from the province of Asia; the anonymous slave girl came from the opposite end of the social spectrum; while the Roman gaoler, probably a retired soldier, might be described as belonging to the respectable middle class. These were three foundation members of the Philippian church. It is wonderful that they could have been welcomed by baptism into the Christian community without any discrimination. Perhaps there were other converts from similarly different backgrounds. Is it possible that the old tensions of race, class and personality resurfaced after their conversion and caused some conflict?

At all events we note the apostle’s exhortations. He begs his readers to ‘stand firm in one spirit, contending as one man for the faith of the gospel’ (verse 27). He goes on to urge them, ‘make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose’ (2:2).

It is important to observe, however, what kind of unity Paul is commending. It is neither unity at any price, even compromising fundamental truths in order to attain it, nor unity in every particular, separating from anybody who fails to dot every ‘i’ and cross every ‘t’ as we do. It is rather unity in the gospel, in evangelical essentials, ‘standing . . . side by side in the struggle to advance the gospel faith’ (verse 27, REB).

Today, however, many of us evangelical Christians acquiesce too readily in our pathological tendency to fragment. We take refuge in our conviction about the invisible unity of the church, as if its visible manifestation did not matter. In consequence, the devil has been hugely successful in his old strategy to ‘divide and conquer’. Our disunity remains a major hindrance to our evangelism.

In particular, we need a greater measure of discernment, so that we may distinguish between evangelical essentials which cannot be compromised and those adiaphora (‘matters indifferent’) on which, being of secondary importance, it is not necessary for us to insist. Perhaps our criterion for deciding which is which should be as follows. Whenever equally biblical Christians, who are equally anxious to understand the teaching of Scripture and to submit to its authority, reach different conclusions, we should deduce that evidently Scripture is not crystal clear in this matter, and therefore we can afford to give one another liberty. We can also hope – through prayer, study and discussion – to grow in our understanding and so in our agreement.

What could be regarded today as belonging to the category of the adiaphora? A long list could be compiled. Here are twelve suggestions. I will frame them as questions.3

1. Baptism: should we baptize only adult believers or their infants as well? And by immersion or affusion?

2. The Lord’s Supper: how should we define our sharing in the body and blood of Christ (1 Cor. 10:16)?

3. Church government: should it be episcopal, presbyterian or congregationalist?

4. Worship: is there a place for liturgy, or should all public prayer be extempore? Can we combine the formal and the informal?

5. Charismata: are any not available today? And of those which are, which are the most important?

6. Women: are all ministries open to them or does Scripture preclude certain functions? What does masculine ‘headship’ mean, and how does it apply today?

7. Ecumenism: what degree of involvement with non-evangelical churches is appropriate?

8. Old Testament prophecy: how are we to understand its fulfilment?

9. Sanctification: what degree of holiness is possible for the people of God on earth?

10. The state: what should be the relations between church and state?

11. Mission: are ‘mission’ and ‘evangelism’ synonymous? What is the place of the quest for social justice?

12. Eschatology: how do we understand the tribulation, the rapture, the millennium, the parousia and our final destinies?

This list could be considerably extended. It should include all doctrines and practices in which there is a sincere disagreement among evangelical believers about what the Bible teaches or implies.

But these secondary matters, in which we can afford to give each other freedom of conscience, leave primary Christian truths intact, especially those which relate to the person and work of Christ, as defined in the Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed, together with the great Reformation emphases on the supreme authority of Scripture, the atoning death of Christ, the justification of sinners by grace alone through faith alone, and the indispensable ministry of the Holy Spirit. On these we must insist. For according to the apostles, to deny the divine-human person of Jesus Christ is anti-Christ (1 John 2:18ff.; 4:1ff.) and to deny the gospel of free grace is to deserve the judgment of God (Gal. 1:6ff.).

This combination of unity in the primary truths and freedom in the secondary, while preserving love in all situations, is often summarized in proverbial form; for instance, ‘In truth unity, in doubtful matters liberty, in all things charity.’ This epigram is sometimes (though inaccurately) attributed to Augustine. But its true author seems to have been one Rupert Meldenius, whose name turned out to be an anagram of Petrus Meuderlin, a Latinized form of Peter Meiderlin, a seventeenth-century Lutheran theologian. In a Latin treatise (c. 1620), which defended Lutheranism but pleaded for peace, he wrote, ‘If we would but observe “unity in essentials, liberty in non-essentials, charity in all things”, our affairs would certainly be in the best possible situation.’

In the English-speaking world, however, it was the great Puritan Richard Baxter who popularized the proverb by quoting it in his book The Reformed Pastor (1656). It is said to have been his ‘favourite quotation’.4 It could profitably be ours as well. It would help us to develop the ‘culture of civility’, for which Professor Alister McGrath pleads within evangelicalism. ‘Can we give up our personality cults,’ he asks, ‘petty rivalries, historical feuds and personal agendas for the greater good of the movement?’5 I hope we can answer his question in the affirmative.

The call for evangelical endurance, or to suffer for the gospel

Paul’s summons to the Philippians to ‘contend’ for the gospel faith implies the existence of adversaries. To these he now comes. He exhorts his readers, as they battle for the truth, not to be in any way ‘frightened’ by their opponents. The apostle uses a strong term, ‘unique in the Greek Bible and denoting the uncontrollable stampede of startled horses’.6 The Philippian experience of opposition to the gospel, together with their refusal to be intimidated by it, would convey a double message. It would be a clear sign from God to their opponents ‘that they will be destroyed’, but to them that they ‘will be saved’ (verse 28).

For, Paul further explains, the Philippian Christians had been granted on behalf of Christ two privileges, ‘not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for him’ (verse 29). He is not referring to pain and suffering in general, but in particular to suffering for the gospel. It is truly remarkable that faith and suffering (faith in Christ and suffering for Christ) should be bracketed in this way as two gifts of God’s grace. Of course all Christians are believers. But are they also all called to suffer? And can suffering be regarded as being as much a gift or privilege as is faith? Yes, this is the consistent teaching of the New Testament.

Each of Jesus’ eight beatitudes, with which his Sermon on the Mount began, depicts a different characteristic of the citizens of God’s kingdom, so that the eight together portray a rounded Christian disciple. And the eighth pronounces God’s blessing on those ‘who are persecuted because of righteousness’ (Matt. 5:10ff.; cf. John 15:18ff.). So the early Christians were not surprised by the opposition they experienced. Instead they rejoiced ‘because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name’ (Acts 5:41). Paul wrote that ‘everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted’ (2 Tim. 3:12), while Peter declared suffering to be a part of the Christian calling and told his readers to rejoice that they were privileged to share in Christ’s sufferings (1 Pet. 2:21; 4:13). No wonder then that Paul saw the Philippians as ‘going through the same struggle’ which they had seen him experience in Philippi (flogging, imprisonment and the stocks), and which they now heard he was still experiencing (verse 30). Disciples are called to share their Master’s sufferings, and also the sufferings of the apostles. It is an inevitable aspect of the apostolic succession – a succession not of order, or even of doctrine or mission, but of suffering.

This noble succession, moreover, reaches down to the present day. Those of us who live in the West may not be called upon to suffer much, or not physically, although faithfulness to the gospel, because it undermines human pride and selfishness, always arouses opposition. But in other parts of the world there is much physical persecution for truth and righteousness. Indeed, it is reliably calculated that the number of Christian martyrs was greater in the twentieth century than in any previous period of church history.

It was appropriate, therefore, that the ten niches above the west door of Westminster Abbey in London, which had been vacant for more than 500 years, should in July 1998 have been filled with the statues of twentieth-century Christian martyrs, representing different denominations and every continent. These include well-known names like Dietrich Bonhoeffer (victim of Nazi tyranny), Martin Luther King (civil-rights campaigner) and Archbishop Janani Luwum (assassinated by the Ugandan dictator, Idi Amin), but also comparatively unknown martyrs like Esther John, a Pakistani convert from Islam, who was brutally murdered in her bed, and Wang Zhiming, a Chinese pastor who was publicly executed during the cultural revolution.7 To each martyr Jesus surely said, ‘Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you the crown of life’ (Rev. 2:10).

We can hardly fail to be stirred by the apostle’s summons at the end of Philippians 1, as it comes to us across the centuries. He calls us to live a life that is worthy of the gospel, to stand firm in it, to contend for it earnestly, to struggle for it together and to be willing to suffer for it. All this is involved in the challenge to maintain the evangelical faith today.