Come Play With Me!


In this day and age, quality parent-child bonding time is scarce. Besides busy schedules and hectic lives, parents are contending with technology and social media for their children’s attention. How can we spend quality time with our kids, and also nurture them in Christ?


NextGen Ministry is pleased to present Come Play with Me!—an art therapy workshop which aims to provide a space for parents and children to bond over art!


At this event you and your child can:Have the opportunity to create a piece of artwork together, and In the process, get to know each other better!


Sign up with your children* for a rich experience through play, as well as learn ways to boost your children’s self-esteem and build their faith In Jesus!


Date: Saturday, 12 March 2022

slot gacor maxwin

Time: 10.30am–12pm

Venue: Via ZOOM

Instructors: Veon and Shulian from Arting Hearts


Registration closes on 5 March 2022 *Suitable for children ages 6–12. Please prepare art materials such as markers, paint and paper for the event. 

Postmodernism and the Church


Author: Dr Roland Chia 

What is Postmodernism?

The term ‘postmodern’ has become something of a buzzword today. It is a word that is often invoked in the august halls of academic institutions, the pages of popular magazines and newspapers, and in advante garde art galleries.  ‘Postmodern’, and its cognates – ‘postmodernism’ and ‘postmodernity’ –  are celebrated, analysed, debated and, as a term of fairly recent vintage, over-employed. Yet, there seems to be no consensus on what these terms mean and what in fact they propose to describe. Even the genealogy of the term ‘postmodern’ is contested. Some have argued that the word first appeared as early as 1934, when Frederico de Oniz coined postmodernism, while others traced it to Arnold Toynbee who in the aftermath of World War I announced in 1939 that the modern age had ended in 1914.

‘Postmodern’ appears to be a kind of umbrella concept that covers a whole range of things: styles, movements, and approaches in the fields of art, history architecture, philosophy, economics, science, politics and literature. It is as diffused as it is imprecise, as irregular as it is malleable. This has led social theorists like Hans Bertens to conclude that ‘postmodernism is not a monolithic phenomenon’. There is no one postmodernism but many, prompting the question if posmodernism is a coherent concept. How, then, are we to understand this phenomenon and the intellectual and ideological forces that inspire it? Perhaps the best way forward is to examine what the prefix in the term ‘postmodern’ suggests. Michael Köhler has suggested this approach when he wrote:

Despite persisting controversies as to what constitutes the characteristic traits of the new area, the term ‘postmodern’ is now generally applied to all cultural phenomena which have emerged since the second world war and are indicative of a change in sensibility and attitude, making the present age ‘post the modern’.

In other words, since in trying to surmount modernism postmodernism is in some ways parasitic to the former, the best way to understand it is to look at what characterises the modern. During the medieval period, the prevailing worldview is that both nature and history are ordered by God, the Creator, and therefore subject to the divine governance. According to this worldview, human lives located in God’s purposeful universe are meaningful. The modern era sought to emancipate humanity from existence in a God-centred universe. The rise of the natural sciences not only promises to set humanity free from the prison of a predetermined universe, it also promises man untold freedom to determine his own destiny.

However, in a cruel and ironical twist, the freedom that modern man experienced appears short-lived as he now finds himself entrapped by the very forces that had allegedly ‘liberated’ him, namely, the powerful technological and scientific imperative and the destructive ideologies they have spawned. As evangelical theologian Carl Henry puts it,

The twentieth century – the century of scientific progress – brought with it, among other debacles, World War I, World War II, Marxist totalitarianism, Auschwitz, the increasing poisoning of the planet, and bare escape from nuclear destruction. Despite boundless expectations from science, modernity with its militarism and rape of nature is seen by postmodernity as a threat to planetary life and survival.

Seen broadly, postmodernism is a movement that tries to break away from the determinism of the modern worldview. In his now famous work, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, the French philosopher of science François Lyotard maintains that postmodernism emerges from the cultural and ideological crisis in Western civilisation. In decrying the modernist goal of a unified science, postmodernism rejects all forms of meta-discourses or meta-narratives that try to explain the nature and meaning of the universe. Thus, all grand-narratives, from unified field theory to Marxism to the Christian Gospel are declared modern, and therefore dead. So comprehensive is its critique of the modern that Lyotard could declare that postmodernism has altered the game rules for science, literature, the arts as well as religion.

Although it is notoriously difficult to define postmodernism, it is possible to identify its key characteristics. Firstly, postmodern philosophers maintain that knowledge is always conditioned by particularities and by the situation of the knower. There is therefore no objective knowledge, and since knowledge is always bound up with the context, there is no neutral discovery of knowledge. This leads philosophers to conclude that knowledge is uncertain. This is the second characteristic of postmodernism. The view that knowledge can be erected on some indubitable foundation (foundationalism) is denied. What we have in actuality, according to these philosophers are individual constructions of ‘reality’. Thirdly, since what we have are but particular constructs there can never be an over-arching system of explanations as the moderns claim. These over-arching systems, what we have called meta-discourses or meta-narratives, must therefore be abandoned.

Fourthly, postmodernism rejects the modern vision and rhetoric of progress. According to its philosophers, the tumultuous history of the twentieth century has comprehensively and decisively demolished such ideals of progress. Fifthly, postmodernism rejects modern individualism, which sees the individual knower as the ideal. Knowledge is now located in a community, but because of postmodernism’s emphasis on the particular, the language-game of a particular community may be incommensurable with that of another. Thus, while postmodernism champions the community over the individual, communities are at the same time isolated from one another. There is very little prospect for genuine dialogue. Finally, postmodernism rejects the idea that the scientific method is omnicompetent. It recognises intuition, for example, as a legitimate source of knowledge.

There are of course various shades of postmodernism. Some philosophers have talked about a soft postmodernism, which seeks only to challenge the presuppositions and conclusions of a dogmatic form of modernism. Thus, soft postmodernism rejects the naturalism and antisupranaturalism of modernity. It also rejects modernity’s tendency towards a reductionist view of life, in which, for instance, the human being is defined purely in genetic terms. Soft postmodernism also rejects the naïve objectivity that fails to take into account the cultural and contextual influences on human knowledge. It is important to point out that Christians should have no problems with these objections. Indeed, theologians like Stanley Grenz have argued, correctly, that these critiques forwarded by soft postmodernism resonate with the Christian critique of modernity as well. But, as they say, the devil is in the details! In addition, we have to see what postmodernism has to offer by way of constructive correctives to the perceived excesses of modernism.

Philosophers also speak of hard postmodernism. Hard postmodernism agrees with all the criticisms forwarded by soft postmodernism against modernity but pushes for the most extreme conclusions. It deconstructs everything that modernism proposes. It does not only argue against objective truth in the sense that all truth-claims are influenced culturally and contextually. Hard postmodernism also rejects objective knowledge and claims that our knowledge and our language do not have any objective referent. As some philosophers have put it, hard postmodernism is in fact saying that ‘there is no there there’. As a result, every knowing and speaking is done from a certain perspective, and every perspective is equally ‘true’, since there is no objective referent out there by which they can be verified. Such postmodernisms embrace pluralism as a necessary cultural and philosophical phenomenon.

The Eclipse of Objective Truth

The first characteristic of postmodernism is the loss of objectivity and the eclipse of truth. Postmoderns attempt to ‘deconstruct’ the modern concept of absolute truth. Although there are different proposals for this deconstruction, they are all undergirded by the view that there is no relationship between truth and reality. Postmodern epistemology rejects the correspondence theory of truth. Truths have to do rather with perspectives, associated with different individuals and communities and expressed through language. In other words, truths are social constructs that are specific to the communities that hold them and have no reference outside of those communities. This view of truth in effect rejects the idea that truth-claims are objective and thus universally accessible. There is no metanarrative, no rational account of the grand scheme of things that is there for all to evaluate. Truth is dissolved into communities, ethnic and gender groups, and other contingent factors.

With this view of truth, postmodernism not only embraces pluralism but celebrates it. Because truths are tied to the communities that propose them, they are as diverse as these communities. Os Guiness has provided a succinct description of the postmodern condition in his book, Fit Bodies, Fat Minds:

There is no truth; only truths. There is no grand reason; only reasons. There is no privileged civilisation (or culture, or belief, norm and style); only a multiplicity of cultures, beliefs, norms and styles. There is no universal justice; only interests and competition among interest groups.

The postmodern rejection of objective truth and its embrace of pluralism mean that it sees relativism as a necessary phenomenon that must be welcomed. There is no need for the different truth-claims to jostle for supremacy, for there is room for all of them. No one has the monopoly of truth, and therefore no institution or group has the right to pontificate its beliefs on others. In this climate of pluralism and relativism, tolerance is often hailed as the noblest of virtues. In the end, it is tolerance that matters, not right or wrong, truth and falsehood. As Allan Bloom has put it so startlingly in his celebrated book The Closing of the American Mind, ‘The danger … is not error but intolerance’.

Some postmoderns maintain that truth has to do not with theoretical correctness as such but with its usefulness. This concept of truth is forwarded by postmodern thinkers like Richard Rorty, who undoubtedly is one of the most influential proponents of postmodern pragmatism. According to Rorty, pragmatism’s focus is not theory but practice. Pragmatists focus on action rather than contemplation,and they ask questions about what is useful rather than what is right. This pragmatism eschews the ideals of modern science whose goal is to establish models that would best correspond to or depict reality. This understanding has elevated science to a privileged position among the human cultural enterprises, when in fact, according to Rorty, science is merely one vocabulary among many. The question that must be asked, Rorty insists, is a utilitarian one: ‘Which vocabulary works better than the others for the purpose in view’.  This same utilitarian approach is found in postmodernism’s attitude towards tradition. Tradition is not discarded altogether, but one should use only those ‘bits’ that might be useful for the present purpose and concern.

The postmodern attitude towards objective truth has at least two important implications for Christian ministry. The first has to do with the place of doctrine and theology in the Christian Faith. In the past 30 years, a number of theologians have criticised the lack of doctrinal emphasis in the Church and the dismal state of theological literacy among Christians. In his book, No Place for Truth, theologian David Wells traces the decline in theological astuteness in evangelical churches in America. According to Wells, while in the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s American evangelicals were firmly grounded in the Bible and the fundamentals of the Christian Faith, from the 1950s onward there seem to be a decline in interest in such matters. According to Wells American evangelicals

… have lost interest (or perhaps they can no longer sustain interest) in what the doctrines of creation, common grace, and providence once meant for Christian believers, and even in those doctrines that articulate Christ’s death such as justification, redemption, propitiation, and reconciliation. It is simply enough for them simply to know that Christ somehow died for people.

Accompanying this decline in interest in theology and doctrine is the emphasis on the practical. This is seen in various quarters, in the way the theological curricula in theological institutions are shaped to provide more practical courses in the name of ministerial training, in the various projects of the church with their concern for tangible results and numerical growth, and in the way sermons are reduced to the recounting of personal narratives and experiences. Underlying all this is the pragmatic notion of truth with its focus on utility rather than theory.

The second implication of the postmodern understanding of truth relates to how the Bible is understood and read. Christians influenced by postmodernism no longer see the Bible as ‘foundational’ or ‘authoritative’ in the traditional and modern sense. This of course does not mean that the Bible is no longer important to them or the Christian community. For these postmodern Christians the Bible no longer refers to truths that are objectively there outside the perspective of its readers. The Bible is now ‘true’ in the sense that it is meaningful for the Christian community. The Bible is important for the Christian community not because it bears witness to the truth of God’s revelation but because through its narratives provide spiritual resources and inspiration to the community of faith.

Postmodern hermeneutics has shifted attention from the text to the reader. According to such approaches meaning is no longer located in the text. Rather it is either found in the reader (Wolfgang Iser) or in the reading community as a socio-cultural phenomenon (Stanley Fish). According to this approach – which is later described as ‘reader-response theory’ – the meaning of the text is no longer found in or behind the text but in front of it. Put differently, according to this hermeneutical theory, what is important is not the intention of the author or the meaning of the text in its original context but the context of the reader. In contrast to the historical paradigm, which begins with the history behind the text, and the literary paradigm, which enquires about the meaning of the text, the reader-response approach to interpretation begins with the reader. And since it is impossible to separate the reader from his social location, reader-response theory maintains that one must begin with the socio-logical / cultural context of the reader, which is read into the text. This approach is taken by liberation theologians in Latin America and by feminist and gay theologians. But this approach is also embraced, albeit unconsciously, by Christians who claim that God has spoken to them in a personal and often idiosyncratic way. Since true objectivity is impossible, according to these scholars, all exegesis is really eisegesis. The autonomous text is repudiated, and the text is no longer confined to just one meaning but is actually open-ended, and meanings can be multiplied as different readers respond to the text in question. In other words, it is the reader(s) who give meaning to the text.

De-traditionalisation

The second aspect of postmodernism that has important ramifications for Christian ministry that I would like to examine may be described as the phenomenon of de-traditionalisation. As modernity marches on to what some philosophers have called late or hyper-modernity, the process of individualisation that it spawned generates an ever-deepening suspicion of received social conventions and traditions. From a sociological perspective, it is often observed that as the various master narratives disintegrate, certainties, values, and norms that were inherited from tradition are also relativised. As the Belgian theologian Lieven Boeve has rightly observed, ‘emancipation from bonds that were once taken for granted and left unquestioned has resulted in a situation in which every human being is given the structurally-subjective task of constructing his or her own personal identity’. Accompanying this process of individualisation in late or post- modernity is a radical pluralisation where individuals are faced with numerous possibilities and a bewildering diversity of choices. Because postmodernism has critically unmasked universalistic pretensions as the absolutisation of a particular viewpoint, it is confronted with a legion of different perspectives, each valuable in itself even though they are incompatible or are even in conflict with others.

This of course does not imply that the customs, values and norms that were once prized so highly have completely disappeared. They still continue to function in some sense, but they have now become only a part of a broad array of possibilities from which individuals can choose. But most importantly, in the postmodern context all these customs, values and norms can no longer claim to be the exclusive basis for determining people’s lifestyles. This means that the social significance of tradition as the means of interpreting individual and social existence has collapsed in postmodern society. The claim that tradition makes of being the living and life-giving narrative is no longer taken seriously by some and seen as irreconcilable to the postmodern ethos by others. Traditions that have survived the collapse find themselves among countless other new life-options in the characteristically plural postmodern cultural market. Religious traditions also suffer the same fate as they take their places among the many different religious commodities displayed in the postmodern religious market. And as the New Age movement has shown, bits of the classical religious tradition can be excised from their original contexts and combined with fragments from other traditions to form a postmodern religious collage.

The Protestant Church, especially its evangelical variety is particularly susceptible to the postmodern rejection and irresponsible pilfering of tradition. In a devastating critique of American evangelicalism, Mark Noll writes: ‘the evangelical ethos is activistic, populist, pragmatic and utilitarian. It allows little space for broader or deeper intellectual effort because it is dominated by the urgencies of the moment’. Equally sharp is the critique forwarded by theologian David Wells who laments the alarming theological illiteracy of American evangelicals who are no longer able to articulate the Faith that have shaped their own tradition. Wells argues that if evangelicalism were to regain its theological integrity it must reconnect itself to the historic Protestant orthodoxy from which it has been severed. That is to say, it must take seriously the formative traditions that gave it its identity. If it fails to do this, evangelicalism will continue to lose its link with historic Christianity and thus its identity, and become victim to the corrosiveness of postmodern relativism. Without the tradition, that is, without the content of faith (fides quae creditur) to inform its central task, the church will lack coherency and stability and be swept by the currents of contemporary culture. As Wells has so vividly described it:

As nostrums of the therapeutic age supplant confession, and as preaching is psychologised, the meaning of the Christian faith is privatised. At a single stroke, confession is eviscerated and reflection reduced mainly to thought about one’s self.

The Church that abandons its own rich heritage will willy-nilly be guided by the market place of ideas. By abandoning continuities, the Church will gravitate towards discontinuities as the vacuum that is created by the absence of a sound theological tradition is filled rapidly by a hankering after new techniques and gimmicks in the exercise of ministry. Loren Mead, in his book The Once and Future Church has described this condition as the ‘Tyranny of the New’. ‘When the new way is considered the only way’, writes Mead, ‘there is no continuity, fads become the new Gospel and in Paul’s words, the church is “blown to and fro by every wind of doctrine”’. And since postmoderns of every stripe are into marketing, the church that has abandoned its traditional framework of beliefs or relegated it to the background must adopt a whole new paradigm, borrowed from the contemporary business world. This is precisely what George Barna recommended in his 1988 book, Marketing the Church: What They Never Taught You about Church Growth, published interestingly by Navpress. The church is a ‘franchise’, with a core product to sell, namely the message of salvation. Furthermore, the church must show a ‘profit’, that is, it must be successful in penetrating its market. Under this new paradigm pastors, Barna argues, need a portfolio of gifts that is radically different from those presented by the Apostle Paul. The ‘gifts’ of decision-making, visibility and practicality have in the postmodern context overshadowed those related to teaching and counselling.

This is fertile soil for rootless consumerism to flourish in these experimental churches that have ignored the rich heritage they have inherited. In rejecting its own Christian heritage, these churches have bowed down to a different god – the god of personal choices. Driven by senseless consumerism, the church must constantly ask herself if the ‘products’ she offers in the religious market are able to address the ‘felt needs’ of her members. Conversely, members no longer assess the church by her theological orthodoxy and commitment to being an authentic witness in the world. Rather they judge the church on the basis of whether she is able to meet their needs. This has brought about an interesting and new phenomenon, one that is so characteristic of the postmodern sensibility. By yielding to the demands of the consumer, churches have effectively installed revolving doors. Churches may be full each Sunday, but not with the same people. Membership becomes superfluous, as Christians are no longer committed to their own local churches. This mirrors almost perfectly the average consumer, who is no longer loyal to particular products and brands. As Wells has described it, ‘People keep entering, lured by the church’s attractions or just to check out the wares, but then they move on because they feel their needs, real or otherwise, are not being met’. It’s a buyer’s market, and what the buyer wants the church must be prepared to give. Knowing how to keep the customer satisfied and happy therefore becomes indispensable in the world of competitive marketing.

Faced with this postmodern predicament, the church must heed the admonition of Moses, the psalmists and the prophets of Israel to the people of God to ‘remember’. ‘Remember the days of old’, reads Deuteronomy 32:7, ‘consider the years of all generations. Ask your father, and he will tell you, your elders and they will inform you’. This admonition reminds Christians that Christianity, like Judaism, is a faith that takes history very seriously. God has entered into our world and acted in our history through his dealings with Israel and then supremely through the Incarnation. The admonition also reminds us of the profound significance of the past, and our memory of it. ‘Without memory’, writes Robert Wilken, ‘our intellectual life is impoverished, barren, ephemeral, subject to the whims of the moment’. This is equally true of the spiritual wellbeing of the church. Christians who maintain that God works in the immediacy of the present through his Holy Spirit must be reminded that it is that same Spirit who has guided the church in ages past. Christians who are unwittingly lured into the individualism of our times by emphasising the Spirit’s personal guidance on their individual lives must be reminded that the Spirit also works in the church. And part of the work of the Spirit is to enable us to recall the teachings of Jesus Christ and to ensure that they were faithfully handed over from one generation to another. This is what is meant by traditio which is both a verb as well as a noun. As a noun, traditio refers to that which Jesus ‘handed over’ to the apostles, and they to the church. In its verbal sense, the term refers to the whole movement by which the Christian faith is deposited, preserved and transmitted. Tradition in this sense is dynamic. As D. H. Williams has put it, tradition is ‘not something dead handed down, but living being handed over’. The Reformers well understood that the Christian message, rooted in the Incarnation of the Word, is transmitted in the history of the church. We must not forget that at the heart of the Protestant Reformation is the quest to rediscover the Christian past. For it is only by remembering the past that we are able to recognise present aberrations and make way for genuine renewal in the church.

Postmodern Morality

The third and final aspect has to do with postmodernism’s attitude towards morality or ethics. As we have seen, postmodernism does not only emphasise the cultural, racial and ideological diversity that characterise our world, but celebrates it. Although postmodernism agrees with the modern idea that our world has become a ‘global village’, it is quick to point out that this village consists of many radically different cultures and systems of belief. As William Schweiker has put it in his commentary on the postmodern outlook, ‘We live in one world of many moralities’. Pluralism itself, if it is understood merely as a synonym for ‘plurality’, is not new, and certainly not remarkable. Different cultural forms, beliefs, ideals, practises and moral standards have always co-existed in our world, which is home to many moral worlds. But for postmodern philosophers, ‘pluralism’ is more than simply the recognition of the diversity of moral outlooks. Rather for them pluralism is itself a moral outlook because it affirms that moral diversity is a good thing. And it is precisely because for postmodern thinkers pluralism is not merely a description of moral diversity but a moral statement (or mandate) that it raises a profound problem for the Church.

The postmodern approach to morality embraces pluralism and therefore relativism. There are at least two ways of looking at moral relativism. In his The Concept of Morals, Walter Stace defines moral relativism in this way: ‘Any ethical position which denies that there is a single moral standard which is applicable to all men at all times may fairly be called a species of ethical relativism. There is not, the relativist asserts, merely one moral law, one code, one standard’. Richard Brandt offers a different definition of moral relativism when he describes the relativist as someone for whom ‘conflicting ethical opinions’ are equally valid. Although these two definitions look radically different, they both accurately describe relativism. The rejection of a single moral standard and the equal acceptance of conflicting ethical opinions as valid may be said to be the two sides of the same coin.

Scholars have generally identified two main kinds of relativists. Radical relativists are people who maintain that all moral judgements emerge from particular conceptions of morality that are conditioned by history, culture and society. In other words, for them there are no moral judgements that are bound to human nature. Conventionalists on the other hand, are those who maintain that certain moral judgements are rooted in human nature. These values are primary. Secondary values, however, are relative and are thus shaped by particular traditions and social conventions.  In addition, scholars have classified relativism as hard and soft relativism. Hard relativism sees all cultural norms as incommensurable and therefore mutually incomprehensible. Soft relativism, while denying that there are transcultural standards of evaluation would allow that the different cultural moral norms are mutually comprehensible. Postmoderns of every stripe can be classified under one of these categories.

Moral relativism is a form of subjectivism. It maintains that there is no universal and absolute moral standard to which individuals and societies must submit. Moral truths therefore become the preferences associated with individuals and particular societies. Moral preferences therefore become of matter of taste, and no one should require that a certain moral situation should be met with only one response. When moral truths are reduced to a matter of taste or preference – even if it is in some ways conditioned by the community – the moral question is no longer, What is good? It becomes, What feels good or right to the individual or the community? Or, Which actions are deemed meaningful to that particular individual or that particular community? Moral relativism in postmodern society is the direct consequence of the eclipse of objective truth discussed earlier. Once truth is no longer taken seriously, there can be not objectivity in ethics either. If objective truth either does not exist or cannot be known, moral truth becomes an incoherent concept.

The Church must resist the moral relativism that is so pervasive in our postmodern culture. In the face of subjectivism and pluralism, the Church must continue to emphasise a transcendent moral standard, an ethic that is truly universal. This ethic is not the construct of a particular religious community that is subsequently imposed in a draconian way on the rest of humankind. This ethic, Christians believe, is based on the revelation of God in Christ and therefore expresses God’s will for the entire human family. Postmodern philosophers will surely challenge the claim that Christian ethics is universally relevant and binding. They ask how a revelation that is made to one community can be said to be relevant to all human beings? On what basis can we argue that the Christian vision is not merely a tribal ethic but is in fact for all human beings?

In his book, The Moral Quest: Foundations of Christian Ethics, Stanley Grenz offers two important answers to these questions. The first is that there is a profound connection between Christian ethics and the ethical quest of all humankind. Grenz maintains that this connection is not established by the Church or by human beings, but by the universality of the divine intent. The universal intent of God is the main message of the Bible in that throughout scripture God’s eschatological goal is not only directed at a few but at the whole of humankind. This, of course does not imply that everyone will eventually participate in this divine goal. But the divine intent for everyone to do so is clearly expressed by Paul who exclaimed that God wants ‘all to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth’ (1 Tim 2:4). This is also clearly seen in the mission of the incarnate Son. Grenz explains:

Although Jesus came primarily as Israel’s Messiah, our Lord’s mission encompassed the Gentiles as well, and therefore the early community spoke of Jesus as ‘the Saviour of the world’ (e.g., 1 Jn 4:14). Similarly, even though those who actually come to Christ in repentance and faith may be the direct focus of divine salvation, in Christ God acted for the reconciliation of all humankind (2 Cor 5:19; 1 Jn 2:2).

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The second connection between Christian ethic and all humankind is established on the profound relation between creation and new creation found in the NT. The eschatological new creation, most Christians hold, is not a creation out of nothing (creatio ex nihilo) but the healing, transformation and transfiguration of God’s original creation. If the new creation is understood as the fulfilment of God’s original creation, its completion, then God’s original intention must be closely connected to creation. In addition, Christians believe that God had intended that every human being should participate in this eschatological new creation. With respect to the divine intention, Christian ethics, which Grenz aptly defines as ‘the exploration of the implications of our anticipated eschatological renewal in the present context’, is therefore for all.  Postmodern philosophers would no doubt reject this metanarrative concerning ethics as another example of the totalising discourse of modernity. But Christians should not for that reason either lose confidence in this truth or replace it with something more palatable to postmoderns.

Conclusion

The postmodern challenge to the Church must not be simply brushed aside as an idiosyncratic cultural reaction that will disappear as quickly as it has appeared, but must be taken seriously. As I have briefly pointed out, the postmodern critique of the excesses of modernity must be taken seriously because some aspects of this critique are in agreement with the Church’s own assessment. By taking the postmodern criticisms of modernity seriously, the Church may be led to identify ways in which the latter has shaped her own outlook and ministry. In this way, the postmodern challenge can urge the Church to be self-critical of its theology and practise. But the basis of the Church’s self-criticism, it must be emphasised, is not in the final analysis postmodern philosophy but the Word of God. This means that although the postmodern challenge can in some sense urge the Church to examine its own practises, it cannot serve as the foundation for Christian ministry.

Furthermore, postmodernism itself must come under the critique of the Word of God as interpreted and preserved by the tradition of the Church.  This is what I have tried to emphasise in this talk. Thus, because the Church is truly ‘in the world’ she cannot ignore postmodernism in all its diverse manifestations. But because she is not ‘of the world’, the Church must not allow postmodernism to set the agenda for her ministry in the world. This raises complex questions about the relationship between Gospel and culture and Church and society that are beyond the scope of this talk. The point to be stressed here is that in recognising its solidarity with the world and its culture, the Church must also recognise the prophetic role that it is called to play. The Church can only play this role if she places her confidence not in herself and her ability to adapt to the changing culture but in God and his Word. Amidst the ruins of World War I, the Swiss German theologian Karl Barth wrote:

The Church will gain true courage and genuine significance whenever and wherever it is firmly resolved to resign the false courage and counterfeit significance – the courage of large numbers, of moral qualities, of activistic programmes, of effect on and appreciation from those without – with the intent of putting its sole confidence in what founds and preserves it as it unites in lending an open ear to what God has spoken.

These words still ring true for the Church in the postmodern world.

No Room for Complacency


Author: Dr Roland Chia

On June 22, The Straits Times published an important article by Mathew Mathews and Melvin Tay entitled, ‘Fading Faith? Fathoming the future of Singapore’s religious landscape.’ In this article, the authors provide an analysis of religious trends in our nation-state based on the recently released Census of Population 2020.

This article covers a range of issues and comments on trends observed in the changing religious sentiments of Singaporeans in general and also trajectories in specific religious traditions. What I wish to highlight in this brief article are the authors’ analyses and remarks that have direct or indirect bearing on Christianity and the churches in Singapore.

The Census of Population 2020 shows that the number of residents in Singapore who claim to have no religious affiliations have increased compared to 2010. ‘Overall’, write the authors, ‘one fifth of Singapore residents now profess to have no religion, up from 17 per cent in 2010.’ The authors go on to add this important point: ‘While a 3 percentage point increase may seem trivial, it reflects a slow, though sustained drift away from organised religion.’

Overall, the churches here have hitherto done relatively well, even though the pace of growth has noticeably slowed down. The authors report that ‘From 2010 to 2020, the proportions of Christians in Singapore grew slightly from 18 to 19 per cent, though this pace has slowed from previous decades.’

Although the number of Christians in Singapore remains stable, the church cannot afford to be complacent. It must be more deliberate in addressing the cultural forces at work that shape contemporary society and capture the imagination of young people.

In what follows, I would like to highlight some of the issues raised by the ST article that I think pastors, educators and leaders should be concerned about and must give more attention to. In particular, I would like to discuss three concerns that this article has directly or indirectly flagged.

SPIRITUALITY WITHOUT RELIGION

The first issue has to do with the delinking of spirituality from organised religion, a trend that is well documented in the West. The ST article points out that ‘declarations of null religious affiliations do not necessarily reflect a repudiation of the spiritual.’

The authors report that ‘46 per cent of the respondents who professed to have no religion still believed in the notion or some form of God.’ They add that ‘38 per cent of this group also indicated that they believed in life after death, and the existence of heaven and hell.’

The trends that we are beginning to see in Singapore have been endemic in the West for several decades.

In December 2019, ABC News reported that millennials in the US are leaving organised religion by the droves and that they have no intention of returning. The report cited a study by the Pew Research Centre, which fund that four in ten millennials (those between the ages of 23 and 28) claim that they have no religious affiliation.

Similar to the religiously unaffiliated in Singapore, these Americans who have distanced themselves from organised religion maintain that they continue to believe in God. Many of them also say that they believe in pursuing the spiritual life and practice some sort of spirituality.

There are many reasons why young people in the West have shunned organised religion. Some of them are disappointed with the way in which religious institutions have responded to social justice issues such as inequality, while others disagree with their church’s stance on the LGBT issue.

I suspect that some Christians in Singapore may be disenchanted with the church for similar reasons. Whether their views on these matters are justified or not, these grievances cannot be ignored, but must be addressed with seriousness and sensitivity.

The rejection of organised religion has resulted in privatised spiritualities.

Studies in the West have also shown that many who cut ties with organised religions like Christianity have explored other forms of spirituality, especially those that are not anchored in dogmatic beliefs. Some have experimented with different New Age practices, while others have appropriated the practices of other religions such as Buddhist meditation (without embracing Buddhism or Buddhist teachings).

A significant number of people have also ventured beyond the boundaries of traditional religions and dabbled with witchcraft and the occult. For example, an article published in The Atlantic in 2018 reports that young black women in Baltimore are leaving Christianity and embracing African witchcraft in digital covens.

These are worrying trends which pastors and leaders must take seriously. But every Christian should be concerned about these developments, not just the leaders of the church. Here Christian parents and mentors can play a significant role in guiding young people who may find these trends attractive.

But these developments should also prompt theologians and pastors to re-examine their theology, especially ecclesiology. There is a sense in which evangelical Christians are more susceptible to the lure of a religionless spirituality because of evangelicalism’s emphasis on the believer’s personal relationship with God.

Please don’t get me wrong. The believer’s personal relationship with God through faith in Christ is indeed important. But what is often neglected is the emphasis that our relationship with God is nurtured in the context of the Body of Christ, the Church, and by its central activity, corporate worship. Our relationship with God is shaped by participation in ecclesial practices such as the liturgy and the Eucharist, which John Wesley and others have aptly described as the means of grace.

Perhaps more emphasis should be made in our churches on the importance of ecclesial and liturgical spirituality. Like Wesley, we must stress that the religion of the heart must be nourished by participation in the liturgical life of the community, and not only by private acts of devotion and piety.

DIGITAL RELIGION

An issue which is not mentioned in the ST article but which is pertinent to our discussion is the digitalisation of religion. The coronavirus pandemic has forced churches to explore creative ways of using digital media to conduct Sunday worship services, Holy Communion, prayer meetings, etc.

While the digitalisation of the Church’s ministry has benefited many, especially in the wake of Covid restrictions, it has also exacerbated the drift away from organised religion.  Christians can now visit myriad websites of churches of every hue and shade to attend online Sunday services, listen to sermons and take advantage of a variety of online resources they offer.

In June last year, a group of international scholars conducted a study involving more than twenty-five countries in five continents on how churches have used digital media during the pandemic. This study was also conducted in Singapore through the National Council of Churches. Interestingly, 48 per cent of the pastors here who participated in the study said that they would continue to offer online worship services post-Covid, while only 8.3 per cent indicated that they would stop such services once on-site services are allowed to resume.

There are a number of issues surrounding the digital church that pastors and leaders must be aware of.

The first is that digital religion could very easily jeopardise Christian orthodoxy. The internet offers countless sites from which information about every aspect of Christianity can be obtained. However, not all of these sites fall within the boundaries of Christian orthodoxy and much discernment is often needed when using these online resources.

Secondly, digital religion has also made the question of religious or theological authority quite problematic.  As Heidi Campbell and Steve Garner has observed,

‘new media culture authority may be constituted primarily on the basis of reputation systems (e.g., number of likes on Facebook, followers on Twitter, link rankings on blogs). It is the breath of social network online that elevates one’s voice and position online.’

Thus, a Christian who finds a popular speaker on the internet appealing may well regard what this individual teaches as authoritative, even though his doctrines may be antithetical to those of that Christian’s own church or denomination.

Thirdly, the proliferation of online services could encourage religious consumerism that would in the long-run erode commitment to the local church in subtle but significant ways. Why be committed to a local church when one can attend the Sunday services of any church across the globe? Why stay put in one community when one can hop from one online community to another with impunity? This may gradually make membership in a local church unimportant, if not superfluous.

And finally, the internet can encourage a kind of DIY religion where an individual cherry-picks different teachings and practices from a variety of sources and blend them together into a religious cocktail that suits his taste. The resulting concoction may bear little or no resemblance to orthodox Christianity.

These dangers lie in wait in the digital world, and pastors and leaders must find a way of creating awareness among members of their congregation.

GOD OF THE GAPS

Another important issue that the ST article highlights is how the emphasis on the so-called Stem disciplines in our education system has impacted religion. ‘[T]he sustained emphases on science, technology, engineering and mathematics (Stem) disciplines in Singapore’s education system and economy,’ write the authors, ‘seem to have challenged the relevance of religion.’

The relationship between science and the Christian faith is an important but neglected topic in our churches. Christians are prone to read their Bibles devotionally, and reflection on how the truths found in Scriptures relate to cultural enterprises such as science and technology often lacks rigour and depth.

I suspect that many Christians understand the relationship between science and Christianity in the way in which the late Stephen Jay Gould has famously proposed in his book Rock of Ages. Gould maintains that the best way to conceive of this relationship is by regarding science and religion as two Non-Overlapping Magisteria (NOMA).

This means that science and religion have their own particular concerns and approaches to reality. These concerns are so different that they do not overlap or interact with each other.

So science has its own domain, its own Magisterium, to use Gould’s terminology. Science has its own assumptions, epistemology, methodology, and it makes substantial proposals about the material world based on them. Christianity, on the other hand, has its own Magisterium, and offers its own account of reality which may differ significantly from that of science. Put differently, science and religion ask different questions, follow different paths of inquiry, and supply accounts of different aspects of reality.

According to this schema, science and religion represent two spheres of human knowledge that are equally valid, but they exist independently of each other. Because their assumptions, epistemologies and objects of inquiry are different, dialogue between them is simply not possible.

Christians who hold some such view of the relationship between science and religion would therefore conclude that the Christian faith has nothing to say about the scientific enterprise and its account of reality. Similarly, when scientific theories such as evolution challenge their understanding of the Bible, these Christians would think that no response is needed because science and religion do not overlap. Such a view is convenient but unhelpful because it will exclude Christians from public discourse and show the Christian faith to be irrelevant in current debates on science, medicine, technology, etc.

We also have writers such as Richard Dawkins, who have tried to resuscitate the warfare or conflict model of the relationship between science and religion. This model, which was first introduced in the nineteenth century but was quickly discredited, is once again capturing the imagination of the public, due to the phenomenal success of science and the scientism promoted by some scientists.

Space does not allow me to discuss Dawkins’ view in detail. But the idea that religion and science are not only incompatible but are in direct conflict has gained traction among some people. The trend is likely to persist.

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In this warfare, there can be only one winner. Writers like Dawkins have argued that science will emerge as the victor and that it will expose religion to be nothing more than infantile and empty superstition.

But this conflict view, as scholars have repeatedly shown, is based on a caricature of the Christian faith, a naive view of science that refuses to acknowledge its limits (thanks to scientism), and a blinkered view of history which ignores the long and fruitful dialogue between science and Christianity.

Finally, I want to draw your attention to a particular observation made by the authors of the ST article. They said that there are many who still try to reconcile faith with science, adding that: ‘For this group, faith functions as a salient anchor in their lives when dealing with situations and experiences that science is not fully equipped to deal with.’

While it is heartening to know that some people are trying to reconcile their faith with science, the idea that faith is important only in those aspects of reality and human experience that science is hitherto unable to explain is indeed troubling. Yet, this is the way that some Christians look at the relationship between science and the Christian faith.

This approach — which invokes the idea of God as an explanatory strategy to deal with issues or questions that science has not yet resolved — is described by theologians and philosophers as the ‘God-of-the-gaps’ approach. God becomes important and indispensable only in those aspects of human experience that science is unable to fully or satisfactorily explain.

When a credible scientific explanation is offered for that slice of human experience, God is no longer needed there. He must find another gap in the scientific discourse to fill, albeit only temporarily and as an interim measure. But as the gaps narrow and as many are closed by science, the God-of-the-gap shrinks and will one day disappear altogether because he would have outlived his usefulness.

All these approaches and attitudes — Gould’s non-overlapping Magisteria, Dawkins’ conflict model of science and religion, and the God-of-the-gaps model — will cause many to question the relevance of the Christian faith in a world that is governed by the new high-priests, the scientists, who peddles a religion that exalts omni-competent science.

CONCLUSION

These are some of the many challenges that the Christian Church and its leaders have to face as they navigate ‘future shifts’, as the authors Mathews and Tay put it. They must be taken seriously. And the Church must have a strategy to pro-actively address them.

We live in a time where seismic changes in culture and society are taking place. There’s much that needs to be done. And there is simply no room for complacency.

Science and Christianity


Author: Dr Roland Chia

In recent years, a group of writers has emerged onto the literary scene with a number of books vehemently criticising religion. These books have topped the best-seller charts and have provoked robust but mixed responses from all quarters. Described as the ‘New Atheists’ these writers – Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett and Christopher Hitchens – are the new crusaders of scientism determined to undermine religion in general, and Christianity in particular. The titles of their books clearly reveal their project: The End of Faith by Sam Harris, The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, Breaking the Spell by Daniel Dennett and God is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything by the late Christopher Hitchens. These writers, some of whom are scientists, insist that science is the sole basis of reliable truth because it is based on hard evidence and rigorous reasoning. This view presupposes that faith and reason are at odds with one another, and that reason alone, not faith, is the basis of truth. This view also presupposes that the scientific endeavour does not require the commitment of faith at all.

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The New Atheists are in fact reviving the old and almost defunct ‘conflict’ or ‘warfare’ thesis promoted by two influential books that appeared in the nineteenth century: J. W. Draper’s History of Conflict between Religion and Science and A. D. White’s A History of Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom. Most historians of science now regard this once popular view that science and religion are in permanent and irresolvable conflict as unacceptable. Writers like Dawkins and Dennett, however, seem adamant to revive this view in order assert that faith is delusional and religion dangerous. Dawkins has gone so far as to compare scientists who promote a positive relationship between science and religion to the British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain’s attempt to appease Adolf Hitler, despite the obvious ridiculousness of such a comparison. Through their peculiar version of Darwinism, both Dennett and Dawkins argue that religion is an ‘accidental by-product’ or a ‘misfiring of something useful’. By promoting a version of scientism or naturalism, Dawkins and Dennett reject all religious faith as superstition. As the sole basis of truth, then, science is the enemy of faith.

How are we to understand the relationship between science and religion, especially Christianity? The answer to this question is complex, and can be approached from different angles and perspectives. In the compass of this brief lecture, I have elected to answer this question from the standpoints of history and philosophy. Firstly, we will examine the historical relationship between Christianity and the development of the natural sciences. Next, we explore the reasons for the secularisation of science and the scientific outlook, which gave rise to naturalism or scientific materialism. Then, we will analyse the claims of scientism or naturalism and expose their profound weaknesses. And finally, we will try to imagine what a dialogical relationship between science and Christianity might look like.

Should I Follow the Truth Wherever It Leads?


Author: Rev Dr Lewis Winkler

I often hear the phrase in academic circles, “You must follow the truth wherever it leads.” There’s an important kernel of wisdom here since too many live as though they do not want anyone to confuse them with the facts. What they believe is good enough. They are content and secure in their ignorance. Their mind is made up.

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But there’s another way to look at this proverbial statement that should give us pause. We live in a thoroughly post-enlightenment rationalist age where the life of the mind is often considered the highest form of human activity. In this context, the notion of “following the truth” can be downright dangerous. One key question that must be asked is what is meant by “truth”.

The unstated assumption is that pursuing “truth” will always lead the seeker towards reality. But if postmodernity has taught us anything, it’s the fact that the notion of “truth” itself is value-laden. I have seen far too many scholars, in the name of “pursuing the truth”, follow paths that clearly led them away from Jesus Christ, the One who declares Himself the truth (Jn 14:6) and who reminds us that God’s word is truth (Jn 17:17).

From the Christian perspective, our finitude greatly limits us, and sin infects every aspect of our being, including our intellectual capacity to find and discern truth. As a result, the pursuit of truth is never a neutral enterprise. We have frequently unrecognized assumptions, vested interests, prior propensities, limited perspectives and underlying commitments that skew our ability and desire to perceive, acquire and properly apply truth.

As James Spiegel puts it in The Making of an Atheist, “Sin corrupts cognition, which leads to more sin, which brings about a further corruption of the mind and so on. The overarching point [of Romans 1] is clear: immoral behavior undermines one’s ability to think straight, at least about certain issues.” As such, genuine truth-seeking requires more than intellectual capacity and curiosity. It also demands virtues of courage, moral rectitude, humility and submission.

I have met some truly brilliant thinkers who think at a completely different intellectual level and with a far greater capacity than the rest of us. But the more I see truly brilliant people, the more grateful I am that God did not make me one of them. For all of its benefits and greatness, brilliance is also exceptionally dangerous.

When you become convinced that you’re smarter than everyone else (even if it’s true), it’s a relatively small step to believe you are also smarter than God, or at least smart enough not to need or trust in Him. Brilliance makes it easier to forget that you are not comparing yourself to other mere mortals but challenging the wisdom and knowledge of the omnipotent Maker, Sustainer, Lover and Redeemer of the universe.

There comes a time in the life of every honest person when the ability to know is outstripped by our sin-distorted perceptions of reality, our limited capacities of the mind and the inherently complex and mysterious nature of a finite universe created and sustained by an infinite God. At this point, we would do well to demonstrate a certain level of humility and surrender to the incapacity of our finitude and the obfuscating influences of sin.

But, like all other noble pursuits, we can make the pursuit of what we want to be true an end in itself; another idolatrous absolute detached from the one and only true source of truth: God made known through Jesus Christ. This detaches truth from its source, giving it an ambiguous independence that is grounded in nothing more than our perceptions of and desire for the way things are. It essentially denies that truth is embodied in Jesus (Eph 4:21) and ignores the exceptionally distorting power of sin and the profoundly limited nature of our knowing. The fact is that we desperately need the corrective aid of the incarnate Christ, God’s authoritative word, and His Holy Spirit, who guides us into all truth (Jn 16:13).

Enlightenment rationalism has made an idol of human intellect. Postmodernism has made an idol of personal perceptions and desires. But this is nothing new. Back in the time of the New Testament, the Apostle Paul reminds us in Rom 1:18ff that we create idols whenever we suppress the truth in unrighteousness and refuse to give God the thanks and honor He warrants and deserves. We may deceive ourselves into believing we are “following the truth wherever it leads” when we are really only seeking after the things we hope and want to be true.

As atheist philosopher Thomas Nagel once confessed (in The Last Word) in a refreshingly honest way, “I want atheism to be true and am made uneasy by the fact that some of the most intelligent and well-informed people I know are religious believers. It isn’t just that I don’t believe in God…. It’s that I hope there is no God! I don’t want there to be a God; I don’t want the universe to be like that.”

In contrast, for Christians, “following the truth wherever it leads”, takes on an entirely new significance and meaning. It entails becoming a Spirit-empowered disciple of Jesus Christ, a faithful and diligent student and doer of God’s word and a person who loves, thanks and worships God in spirit and in truth. That’s the only journey worth taking no matter where it may lead and what it may cost.

Truth and Freedom


Author: Dr Roland Chia

One of the freedoms that Western democratic societies cherish and are determined to defend is the freedom of speech or expression. Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights articulates the right to the freedom of expression thus:

Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.

The right to the freedom to hold a view and to express it is without question important if society were to remain open and if a discursive form of democracy were to be allowed to mature and flourish.

The freedom of expression is so important that some have argued that the society that inordinately suppresses it would be greatly impoverished. This is because it is in an environment where the free discussion of views is encouraged that the truth is most likely to emerge, recognised and embraced.

In his 1859 classic entitled On Liberty, John Stuart Mill argues as follows:

The peculiar evil of silencing the expression of an opinion is that it is robbing the human race; posterity as well as the existing generation; those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth; if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error.

It is in a sense true to say that if a society were to mature and become more resilient, it has to respect the freedom of speech and widen public discourse. In fact, as many modern liberals have argued, the wider the discourse, the stronger the society that permits it will become. Such a society, they maintain, will be better able to weather social conflicts and crises.

However, it is important to note that for Mill and others, freedom of expression must always be understood in relation to the search for the truth. And the truth will always in some ways liberate speech and in other ways also discipline (i.e., restrict) it.

The idea of truth implies the existence of ‘untruth’. And although in an open society, people must be allowed to articulate viewpoints that are simply not true, these viewpoints should always be contested and corrected. Truth therefore should guide the way in which we think and speak.

This emphasis on truth is at the heart of the Christian understanding of the freedom of expression, for without truth there can be no real freedom (John 8:31-32). This point is especially pressing in our postmodern climate, where the idea of objective truth has been eclipsed and where what is true has become radically relativized.

Without an enduring belief in the truth and the desire to attain it, speech is robbed of its substance and is reduced to babble. When this happens, the very freedom of expression that society wants so jealously to protect will be lost.

If we believe that truth does not exist or that it cannot be known, then free speech can only produce ‘noise’, a ramble of different opinions and viewpoints that are alienated from reality.

More worryingly, in the absence of truth or where it is not taken seriously, the ideology that wins the jostle for public attention will do so on the basis of arbitrary might. When truth in public discourse is marginalised, power takes its place.

We see this already instantiated in some circles, where public discourse is steered in one particular direction by powerful actors, and where dissenting voices are often silenced, shouted down or demonised.

When truth is pushed to the margins, public discourse will be driven by ruthless power, and the noble ideal of the freedom of expression will itself become something of a sham, a vacuous rhetoric. For when might instead of the truth controls public discourse in any society, the liberties of its members are duly threatened.

However, as I have already alluded to, if truth is taken seriously and if it is to be regarded as the goal of public discourse, then certain kinds of speech, especially those that promote falsehoods and those that are slanderous, should not be tolerated.

This means that if truth is really taken seriously, certain kinds of freedom must be checked. This must be done in the interest of truth, but also in the interest of society because falsehoods, unlike truth, can be and often are harmful to the community.

‘Everyone has duties to the community in which alone the freedom and full development of his own personality is possible’, declares Article 29 of the UDHR. To protect the community from harmful and polarising falsehoods is in some ways to protect one’s own liberties.

The Bible clearly emphasises that speech should be truthful. The Apostle Paul exhorts the Christians in Ephesus to ‘put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbour’ (Ephesians 4:25).

Commenting on the Eighth Commandment in the Decalogue (‘You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour’), the Catechism of the Catholic Church states:

The eighth commandment forbids misrepresenting the truth in our relations with others. This moral prescription flows from the vocation of the holy people to bear witness to their God who is the truth and wills the truth. Offenses against the truth express by word or deed a refusal to commit oneself to moral uprightness: they are fundamental infidelities to God and, in this sense, they undermine the foundations of the covenant.

The discussion on the freedom of expression must therefore give equal attention to the question of duties and responsibilities as it does to liberties. Speech must always be responsible if it is to protect the freedoms of the speaker and the community to which he belongs.

Speech has the responsibility towards the truth. It must be truthful. In fact, it is when speech is truthful that it liberates the speaker and his hearers from the distortions of falsehood and the unfreedom that results.

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For speech to be truly free, it must be truthful.

Can We Legislate Morality? Some Contemporary Reflections


Author: Professor Kwaf Kai-Man

In the 1960s, a famous debate between Lord Patrick Devlin, a judge, and H. L. A. Hart, a law professor, happened over the issue of the legal enforcement of morality. While Devlin argued for the in-principle justifiability for the society to legislate on morals (legal moralism), Hart sharply attacked legal moralism. Christians usually are on the side of conservatives who defend some form of legal moralism (e.g., using the law to prohibit homosexual sex), but since the Hart-Devlin debate, the mainstream opinion in the academy, which has also developed into a kind of “common sense,” is that legal moralism is simply unacceptable in modern liberal society. In Singapore, the debate about Section 377A of the Penal Code, which criminalises consensual sex between adult men, is still raging. Although according to a survey in 2018, 55% of Singaporeans still supported 377A, the liberals and the gay movements supporters have unceasingly tried to strike it down. Their most common rationale is that we just can’t legislate morality.

Of course, this position can be traced back to J. S. Mill’s famous harm principle: “the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinion of others, to do so would be wise or even right” (Mill 1985, p. 68). Many now regard this as a “self-evident” truth, but in the last two decades, many scholars have come to doubt the harm principle, and some have provided substantial defense of legal moralism. This debate is very complicated. Here I can merely introduce some main points very briefly.

One example of a drastic change of attitude is Jeffrie Murphy. In 1966, he wrote, “Thus it seems to me that any theoretical attempts at a revival of legal moralism must necessarily fail and that all practical application of legal moralism ought to be eradicated” (Murphy 1966, p. 54). But recently he admitted that this “publication in legal philosophy was an uncritical endorsement of Hart’s critique…- a publication so truly dreadful that I no longer even list it on my CV” (Murphy 2006, pp. 46-47). He also talks about his “increasing skepticism about Mill’s harm principle… [Even] Mill does not believe that all liberties are created equal…If the liberty is not all that important, … then I see no reason why the state would necessarily have to demonstrate harm at all before encumbering it- offense, for example, might be enough” (Murphy 2006, p. 48).

One basic problem with Mill’s harm principle is due to the amorphous nature of the concept of harm. For example, although Ronald Dworkin is a staunch defender of liberalism, he points out that the concept of harm can be interpreted more strictly or more loosely. If we use a loose concept of harm, there is no reason why the conservatives cannot help themselves to this concept: “Devlin’s argument that society will fall apart without conformity in these mattes is surely wrong, but the novel sexual or religious practices of any large group will have general social consequences that will change the social environment in which everyone must live, and those who regret that change will certainly suppose that they have been harmed” (Dworkin 1977, p. 10).

So liberals are facing a dilemma: “It is not easy, however, to provide a definition of harm that will exclude these general social consequences and yet not prohibit, on Mill’s principle, much social legislation that liberals find desirable. Many liberals argue … that private schools should be abolished because the social divisions they foster are harmful to society as a whole. … If we say that harm … is restricted to uncontroversial harm to particular people, then Mill’s principle would not permit abolishing private schools. If we adopt a more generous definition of harm, such that the social consequences of permitting elitist education may count as harm within that definition, then the social consequences of permitting sexual licence may also count as harm” (Dworkin 1977, p. 10).

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In short, if the concept of harm is too loose, we need to accept many laws which liberals want to exclude; if the concept of harm is too strict, liberals cannot accept many laws which they tend to support. In general, many laws which are widely accepted by many (including liberals) in fact cannot pass the test of the harm principle: “Much economic legislation is defended, not on the ground that it prevents direct harm to particular people, but because it creates an economic environment in which the community as a whole is able to prosper. Anti-trust laws, … and laws limiting production or development of scarce resources … Various forms of social legislation, including laws to improve race relations, are often justified along similar lines, and aesthetic regulations, like laws prohibiting the owners of buildings of historical interest from destroying or changing these buildings, are justified because they protect the environment or culture of the community as a whole” (Dworkin 1977, p. 10). Obviously, these laws appeal to many kinds of value rather than harm.

The second major problem is that there exist many counterexamples to the harm principle. Long time ago, Devlin has pointed out: “Euthanasia or the killing of another at his own request, suicide, attempted suicide and suicide pacts, dueling, abortion, incest between brother and sister, are all acts which can be done in private and without offence to others and need not involve the corruption or exploitation of others. … no one hitherto has gone so far as to suggest that they should all be left outside the criminal law as matters of private morality. They can be brought within it only as a matter of moral principle” (Devlin 1965, p.7). In his view, “there is in England, as in all countries there always has been, a great deal of law that is inconsistent with [Mill’s] doctrine” (Devlin 1965, p. 127).

Liberals are likely to repudiate some of these “counterexamples” but examples like dueling, animal cruelty law, incest and legal regulations about environmental conservation are harder for the liberals to dismiss. I have hardly scratched the surface here but due to limitations of space, I have to stop here. I just want to say that we can no longer regard the harm principle as a self-evident truth, and encourage more Christian scholars and theologians to do research in this area.

The Crucifixion in Art and Theology


Author: Dr Roland Chia

More than forty years ago, the New Testament scholar Ernst Käseman noted that ‘The sole distinguishing feature that radically separates Christianity and its Lord from other religions and their gods is the cross’.

The apostle Paul warns us that the idea of a crucified God will leave the world incredulous if not offended – it is scandalous to the Jews and foolishness to the Greeks (1 Corinthians 1:23). But to those who are being saved, the apostle stresses, it is the power and the wisdom of God (1 Corinthians 1: 24).

Throughout the history of the church, artists and theologians have in their own ways tried to penetrate the mystery of the cross.

Their stammering attempts to articulate that mystery – respectively on canvas and scroll – complement each other in profound ways that demand more attention that they have hitherto received. Together they help the thoughtful Christian to more fully appreciate the meaning of the Scriptural testimony of the death of our Saviour.

In the limited space of this article, I hope to reflect theologically on the paintings of two Renaissance artists – Matthias Grünewald (1470-1528) and Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, more famously known as Raphael (1483-1520). It must be pointed out at the outset that while Raphael imbibed the atmosphere of the Italian High Renaissance, Grünewald largely preferred the Gothic style to the classicism of the Renaissance of his native Germany.

As theologian David Brown explains: ‘Raphael was a contemporary of Grünewald’s but unlike Grünewald was part of the High Renaissance and so did not share the same Northern Gothic assumptions that had inspired Grünewald’. This in part explains their very different styles and approaches.

Be that as it may, their strikingly different portrayals of the crucifixion yield great insights into the mystery of the cross. Together they are able to shed light on the significance of the crucifixion that neither one of the paintings has the capacity to do so without the other.

The Grünewald Crucifixion

We begin with the Grünewald Crucifixion which is arguably one of the most horrific and painful depictions of the death of the Saviour ever painted. What is even more remarkable is the fact that this painting is part of the Isenheim Altarpiece, whose purpose is to draw the congregation into contemplative worship.

The cross is set against a dark background to depict ‘crucifixion darkness’ – the darkened sky in daytime – reported in all three synoptic Gospels (Mark 15:33; Matthew 27:45; Luke 23:44-45). Eschewing the idea that this was an eclipse, the father of Latin theology, Tertullian (155-240) describes it as a ‘world-portent’ and made it quite clear that the Romans had witnessed the phenomenon and recorded it in their archives.

Without doubt the most important feature of the Grünewald Crucifixion is the mangled body of the Saviour to which the viewer’s attention is immediately drawn. Much has been written about the human body in Renaissance art, but Grünewald’s portrayal of Christ’s body – riddled as it is with the brutal wounds of torture – is surely stylistically unique.

Close inspection of the body of Jesus would reveal that it is almost entirely ravaged by the cruel lashes it had suffered. Innumerable pieces of thorns or broken wood can be found embedded in the torn flesh, even as the crown of thorns sinks torturously into his head. The skin on his twisted and contorted body is besmirched and discoloured, and at his side there is a gapping and bleeding wound inflicted by a soldier’s spear.

The body of Christ slumps as if pressed down by the weight of an invisible object, but his fingers reach upwards as if making a final appeal to his Father whose will he has come to fulfil. Even Grünewald’s depiction of the structure of the cross bears an important message. The wood of the cross appears strained and bent as if bearing a heavy weight.

What Grünewald hopes to portray in all of this is that this tortured human being who died in utter humiliation is the Saviour who carries the sins of the whole world!

The Christ in the Grünewald Crucifixion is a figure of abject horror. It reminds the viewer of the haunting words of Isaiah: ‘He had no form that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not’ (53:2-3).

The great Swiss German theologian Karl Barth summarises the essence of the Grünewald Crucifixion thus: ‘Its subject is the incarnation’. Barth is of course absolutely right! In the grotesque figure of Christ here depicted, we are invited to come to a deeper understanding of self-giving love of the incarnate One who came not to be served but to serve (Matthew 20:28).

The artist appears to be saying that it is in the horrible death of this man that we get a glimpse of the glory of God and the exact tracing of his cruciform love. In the pathos of the cross is revealed the God who is love.

Barth writes: ‘This is the way, in fact, that the Church believes in and recognises God in Christ. It cannot run over to the right side, where the glory of God can be seen directly. It can only look out of the darkness in the direction in which a human being is to be seen in a light, the source of which it cannot see itself’.

The portrayal of John the Baptist in the Grünewald Crucifixion is also significant theologically. That Grünewald places John the Baptist at the foot of the cross demonstrates that the artist is interested in more than mere reportage – an accurate account of this historical event. He is an artist-theologian whose main aim is to communicate on canvas the theological significance of Calvary.

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What is of note is that John is depicted as pointing to the cross. The extended index finger is a deliberate attempt on the part of the artist to emphasise the Baptist’s role as a witness. Barth understood this well when he notes that ‘John the Baptist, in Grünewald’s Crucifixion, can only point’.

In John we get an insight into the goal of the Church’s mission. As God’s witness in the world the church could also do no more than just point to the cross and say: ‘Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world!’ (John 1:29).

The Mond Crucifixion

When we compare Grünewald’s depiction of the cross with the Mond Crucifixion by Raphael, we are immediately struck by how radically different they are.

The Mond Crucifixion was originally an altarpiece for the Church of San Domenico in Citta di Castello. The painting arguably exemplifies the best of the Florentine tradition of High Renaissance art, skilfully combined with the Peruginesque style that Raphael acquired from his master, the famous painter Pietro Perugino of the Umbrian school.

While the background in the Grünewald Crucifixion depicts darkness and gloom, the cross in The Mond Crucifixion is set against the beauty and serenity of the Italian countryside. The lush greenery and blue sky represent the qualities of order and harmony that are so characteristic of Renaissance art in general and Raphael’s works in particular.

The body of the Saviour in the Mond Crucifixion is beautiful and bears no evidence of the torture to which it had been subjected, safe of course the wounds on the hands, feet and side. Christ looks remarkably tranquil with no obvious sign of pain, as if asleep (a common euphemism for death). His body appears almost weightless as it is suspended serenely on the cross, without any sign whatsoever of strain. The cross in the Mond Crucifixion is a simple, symmetrical structure, quite unlike the rugged cross in the Grünewald Crucifixion.

 ‘At first sight’, writes David Brown, ‘the way Raphael paints the crucifixion may well seem shallow by comparison’. But to come to such a conclusion, however, is to miss ‘the word of the cross’ that Raphael wishes to convey in the Mond Crucifixion.

For the historical facticity of Christ’s death on the cross – though obviously important – is not the only or even the main thing that the artist wishes to communicate. Like the Grünewald Crucifixion, the Mond Crucifixion is also theology on canvas. It is rich in symbolism. It bears a message. It functions as a theological text.

The cross of Christ in the Mond Crucifixion unites time and eternity, heaven and earth. That the cross unites time and eternity is suggested by the figures around it, both human and angelic. And that it unites heaven and earth is seen in the way the cross is at once rooted in the ground and stretches to the skies.

In depicting the Jesus as free from agony, Raphael is not presenting a docetic Christology that reduces the humanity of Christ into a phantasm. Rather, he hopes to portray the sovereignty of God in this drama of salvation. Amidst all the violence and the chaos, God is in perfect control and he has won the victory in Christ (Christus Victor).

Raphael takes full advantage of leitmotifs of Renaissance art to bring this out. In the death of Christ on the cross, the confusion and pain of human existence – even death itself – is removed. So we are invited to embrace the victorious Christ by faith, and experience peace and hope.

 The Mond Crucifixion is therefore a metaphor of deliverance from sin and death and the transformation of despair into hope!

The careful viewer of the painting would notice that Raphael has not forgotten about the sacraments. Although the medieval church has seven sacraments, Raphael highlights only two: baptism (suggested by the lake behind the cross) and the Eucharist (the collection of Christ’s blood by the angels – a rather crude depiction of transubstantiation). Both these sacraments are featured because of their profound relationship to the salvific death of Christ on the cross.

Much more can be said about the painting. For example, the various roles of the human figures of Mary Magdalene, John the apostle, and Jerome (the bearded figure) can be explored with profit. But because of space, we’ll have to leave this for another occasion.

In their unique and irreplicable ways, the two paintings testify that in the horror of the cross is revealed the saving grace of God. They approvingly echo the words of the apostle, quoted earlier, that the cross is the wisdom and the power of God for those who are being saved.

Put differently the portrayals of the crucifixion by Grünewald and Raphael testify that in the ugliness of the cross, we see ever more clearly the beauty and splendour of God, his glory. And it is in the tragedy of the cross that we see the riches of God’s grace.

As Hans Urs von Balthasar perceptively puts it:

The Spirit of love cannot teach the Cross to the world in any other way than by disclosing the full depths of the guilt that the world bears, a guilt that comes to light on the Cross and is the only thing that makes the Cross intelligible. Indeed, it is in the God-forsakenness of the Crucified One that we come to see what we have been redeemed and saved from: the definitive loss of God, a loss we could never have spared ourselves through any of our own efforts outside of grace.


The Dangerous Distortions of Dominion Theology


Author: Dr Roland Chia

In their interesting study published in 2018 in the journal Sociology of Religion entitled ‘Make America Christian Again: Christian Nationalism and Voting for Donald Trump in the 2016 Presidential Election’, Andrew L. Whitehead, Samuel L. Perry and Joseph O. Baker argue that while there may be a variety of explanations for Donald Trump’s success at the polls – such as economic dissatisfaction, sexism, racism, Islamophobia, and xenophobia – Christian nationalism is a factor which simply cannot be ignored or taken lightly.

They write:

Despite these close connections with economic views, sexism, racism, xenophobia, and Islamophobia, however, Christian nationalism is not synonymous with or reducible to any or all of these. Rather, Christian nationalism operates as a set of beliefs and ideals that seek the national preservation of a supposedly unique Christian identity. Voting for Donald Trump was for many Americans a Christian nationalist response to the perceived threats to that identity. Stated more formally, we hypothesise that Christian nationalism will predict voting for Donald Trump even after these other important and interrelated factors have been held constant …

Christian nationalism in America comes in different shades and hues. One of its most prominent expression is arguably Dominionism, a theological-political vision of society that is associated primarily – although not exclusively – with the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR). Dominion theology is often presented by its proponents as being of a piece with mainstream evangelicalism, even though it also claims to recover some aspects of biblical teaching that have been neglected or ignored by the church.

In this short article, I examine the contours of Dominion Theology (DT) in America, with an eye on its political agenda and its alleged relationship with evangelical Christianity.

Defining Dominionism

As we begin with an attempt to define Dominionism, we would do well to take note of the point made by Al Dager in his article entitled, ‘Kingdom Theology’ that ‘Dominion Theology is not an easily delineated segment with the Church, but rather a loose network of autonomous sub-movements that have different approaches to their attempts at establishing the Kingdom of God.’

That said, it is possible to trace the common features that these disparate sub-movements share theologically and ideologically. In fact, a number of authors have offered helpful descriptions of this phenomenon, and it pays to rehearse some of them here.

In his article entitled ‘Dominionism Rising’ published on the Political Research site, Frederick Clarkson explains that ‘Dominionism is the theocratic idea that regardless of theological camp, means, or timetable, God has called conservative Christians to exercise dominion over society by taking control of political and cultural institutions. The term describes a broad tendency across a wide swath of American Christianity.’

In his book Kingdom Come: A Biblical Response to Dominion Theology, Don Pirozok links DT to Kingdom Now (KN) theology. As its name suggests, KN teaches that it is the responsibility of the Church to expand the kingdom of God which Jesus Christ has inaugurated to the far reaches of the earth, to ‘spread the glory of God by making the nations “Christian”.’

Pirozok rightly observes that this theology is most prevalent in certain segments of charismatic Christianity in America and elsewhere. Advocates of KN emphasise the significance of the so-called five-fold ministry found in Ephesians 4:11, stressing in particular that in these last days God has restored the offices of the apostles and prophets which the Church has hitherto neglected.

But most significantly, KN is governed by the Dominion Mandate, an expression coined by Peter Wagner. According to Pirozok, the Dominion Mandate is

… a directive based upon the God-given authority in Genesis 1:25 which Adam lost in the fall. Today, God is raising up Christians who will walk in restored authority which Jesus Christ has recovered through the work of the cross. The restored dominion given to Christians will allow them to subdue the earth and rule over it. In the process of taking the restored dominion, the Kingdom of Heaven can now be expanded over all the earth. The church is now expanding the kingdom, converting the nations into Christian nations, and will fill the earth with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord.

It is therefore not difficult to see how Dominionism and nationalism feed on each other.

In America, Dominionism is profoundly tied to the ‘Christian nation thesis’. Dominionists maintain that although America was originally a Christian nation, its Christian identity has eroded through the years due to a variety of factors. They believe that it is the task of the Church to restore that identity – to make America Christian again, as Whitehead et al have aptly put it.

The urgency to do this, according to Marci MacDonald, is due to the ‘Armageddon factor’. According to this theory, the ascended Christ will not be able to return until the Church has taken control of the governments of the world and make the nations Christian.

Church and Kingdom

As the heart of DT is its understanding of the relationship between the Church and the Kingdom of God, and the role that the former must play to advance the latter.

In order to understand the hermeneutical framework within which their ecclesiology is set, one needs to return to the early pages of the Bible and examine the way in which dominionists have interpreted the cultural mandate in relation to the primordial Fall of Adam.

In Genesis 1, we read that having created Adam and Eve in his own image and likeness (Genesis 1:26), God charged them to exercise ‘dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth’ (Genesis 1:28).

Biblical scholars such as Gordon Wenham are agreed that here human beings are commanded to rule over the animal kingdom as God’s representative by ‘treating them in the same way as God who created them.’ The dominionists, however, extend the scope of Adam’s rule to include other human beings as well.

According to the dominionists, Adam had forfeited his authority to exercise governance over the human race when he sinned against God. As a result, Satan now has dominion over the world.

Through his death and resurrection, Christ has achieved victory over Satan, a victory which all Christians share. Thus, the dominion which Adam had lost because of his disobedience is now restored to the Church, which has been given the mandate and the responsibility to further God’s kingdom that was inaugurated by Christ.

Don Pirozok explains:

In Dominion Theology, Jesus Christ, through the work of the cross, has restored to the church what Adam had lost to Satan in the fall … So now the church will do what Adam never accomplished, subdue the earth and have dominion over it.

According to DT, once Christ has inaugurated the kingdom, he steps aside. The Church, which dominionists regard as the Second Adam, now occupies centre-stage and does the rest of the work of advancing God’s kingdom. Once again Pirozok offers a succinct account of the dominionist doctrine:

The basis of dominion teaching is that in the New Adam (a glorified church) restored dominion rule is exercised to transform the nations to Christ before the Second Coming. The church in Dominion Theology is the agent of change which transforms nations instead of Jesus Christ as His return.

Put differently, DT is thoroughly ecclesiocentric (church-centred) in its orientation. It focuses on the work that the Church must do to advance the kingdom while Christ waits passively in heaven.

Who, then, will bring the Kingdom of Heaven to its full consummation? Is it the Church or is it Christ? Following the Bible, Christians throughout the ages have maintained that it is Christ who will bring the inaugurated kingdom to consummation when he returns.

The dominionists, however, have a very different answer to this question.

Dominion Theology and the Parousia

 This brings us to DT’s vision of the last things, its eschatology, particularly its understanding of the Second Coming of Christ. Broadly speaking, we may describe DT’s eschatological vision as broadly postmillennial, although it differs significantly from other versions.

The Reformed theologian Loraine Boettner descibes postmillennialism as:

… the view of the last things which holds that the Kingdom of God is now being extended in the world through the preaching of the Gospel and the saving work of the Holy Spirit, that the world eventually will be Christianised, and the return of Christ will occur at the close of the long period of righteousness and peace commonly call the Millennium.

The eschatology of the dominionists may be described as postmillennial in that it holds that the kingdom of God will advance and spread to the far reaches of the globe, and the nations of the world will become Christian.

But it departs from traditional postmillennialism in that it believes that the kingdom of God is not extended by preaching the Gospel alone but more crucially by Christians – more specifically, God’s end-time apostles and prophets – taking over and controlling the major institutions of society and culture (the seven mountains), especially the government.

Most significantly, the dominionists maintain that the extension of the kingdom and the return of Christ are dependent on the work of the Church under the leadership of the end-time apostles and prophets. Christ will not be able to return until the Church has taken control of at least a significant portion of the world’s governments and social institutions.

Thus, it is the Church – not Christ – that will ensure the success of the kingdom of God and its extension across the globe. In his book Apostles, Prophets and the Coming Moves of God, Bill Hamon, a self- styled prophet and apostle of NAR, stresses that the Church that God will raise up in these last days to accomplish this purpose will be unstoppable:

God is preparing His Church to become an invincible, unstoppable, unconquerable, overcoming Army of the Lord that subdues everything under Christ’s feet.

It is therefore the responsibility of the Church to usher in the Second Coming of Jesus Christ by taking control of the major institutions of society and by transforming the nations.

In orthodox eschatology, it is the returning Christ who will bring about the consummation of the kingdom of God. According to the dominionist vision, it is the end-time apostles and prophets together with the triumphant church who will prepare the kingdom and hand it over to Christ when he returns!

Needless to say, all this is a disfiguring distortion of the Biblical teaching of the role of the Church, according to which it is a witness to the love and grace of God (1 Peter 2:9), a sign and sacrament of God’s already present kingdom.

Church and State

On the basis of its eschatological vision, it is therefore not difficult to discern the political agenda of the dominionists. Since government is the most important of the seven mountains, their supreme goal is to take control of this ultimate seat of power that can shape all the other six mountains.

According to Clint Heacock, in America, a great many Christian Right and dominionist organisations are ‘seeking to influence current political leaders to vote their way, and advance their particular religious agendas.’ It is the strategy of the dominionists to get Christian politicians to be installed at every level of public office, high and low.

It is worth bearing in mind that when dominionists speak about influencing society and politics, they are not referring merely to ensuring that the Christian voice is heard in the public square. Their project is much more ambitious – it’s nothing short of taking control of the government and institutions.

Peter Wagner makes this point in his book The Church in the Workplace (2006):

Now that we have social transformation on our evangelical agendas, it is time for action. I regard ‘social transformation’ as the concept term. However, the action term that will best set us on the road toward that goal is ‘taking dominion’.

He clarifies this further at the ‘Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!’ Conference in Washington in the year when he explains the Dominion Mandate:

The word mandate, you gotta understand, mandate means an authoritative order or command. It doesn’t mean a good idea. It doesn’t mean a suggestion; it means an authoritative order. Dominion has to do with control. Dominion has to do with rulership. Dominion has to do with authority and subduing, and it relates to society …

In his book Dominion: How Kingdom Action Can Change the World (2008), Wagner elaborates:

We have now shed our inhibitions over theologizing about taking dominion. Dominion theology is not a flashback to Constantinian triumphalism, but it is a new call to action for a triumphant Church … Satan has polluted the land and cursed it. Satan has deployed high-ranking demonic powers to darken the spiritual atmosphere over society and to block the freedom of heaven flowing to earth. Both these arenas need to be and can be cleansed spiritually. We have the tools to do it, we have the gifted personnel to do it and we have the power of the Holy Spirit to do it. It will be done!

Wagner teaches that the only way in which cultures and nations can be transformed is by putting in place a proper apostolic and prophetic government. At the ‘Arise Prophetic Conference’ in San Jose in 2004, Wagner explained why this is so crucial:

See, the problem is … that Satan has had too much of his way in our society because he has a government! And the only way to overthrow a government is with a government. It won’t happen otherwise.

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Dominionism is therefore much more radical than the movement often associated with liberal Christianity called the Social Gospel. While the latter sought to transform society by injecting a certain brand of morality into the cultural and political landscape, Dominionism seeks to demolish modern social and political structures altogether.

Put differently, Dominionism is not satisfied with merely reforming culture and politics. It aims to transform society by abolishing the existing social and political structures and replacing them with Christian ones. Only when this is accomplished can Christ return and the world’s nations be handed over to him.

This of course implies a radical understanding of the relationship between the Church and the state.

During the 16th century Protestant Reformation, there arose a theory of Church-State relationship called Erastianism which maintains that the State should have absolute authority over the Church, even in matters of religion and morality. Associated with the Swiss physician and theologian Thomas Erastus (1524-1583), Erastianism is established on the basis of an analogy between Jewish and Christian Dispensations.

The dominionists have simply turned Erastianism on its head. They insist that under the leadership of the apostles and prophets, the Church as the New Adam must govern the world: all governments must be made Christian, and all civic laws must conform to God’s laws set forth in the Bible.

Dominionists and Christian Right extremists therefore seek to dismantle the long-established constitutional separation of Church and state in America, and to bring about a new order: a government that will be entirely governed by Christian values and principles as they understand them.

The vision of the dominionists for society is therefore nothing short of a theocracy and a theonomy.  It is therefore not surprising that some authors have described NAR and other dominionist groups as ‘America’s Taliban’. DT and KN have also been described as a form of Christian Imperialism.

Dominionism and Evangelicalism

The leaders of dominionist organisations have tried strenuously to show that their vision is in concert with evangelical Christianity. Peter Wagner, in his description of NAR, points to the continuities and discontinuities that obtain between it and traditional Protestantism in this way:

This is not a doctrinal change. We adhere to the major tenets of the Reformation: the authority of Scripture, the justification by faith, and the priesthood of all believers. But the quality of church life, the governance of the church, the worship, the theology of prayer, the missional goals, the optimistic vision for the future, and other features, constitute quite a change from traditional Protestantism.

It is, however, more than a little disingenuous for Wagner and other NAR leaders to claim that the movement introduces no doctrinal change. This is simply not the case.

Take their doctrine of revelation. Peter Wagner clearly teaches that God continues to speak today by his Spirit to the end-time apostles and prophets. And although these new revelations do not contradict the Bible, they can supplement it.

In his article published in Charisma Magazine entitled ‘The New Apostolic Reformation is not a Cult’, Wagner writes:

… I believe that prayer is two way, we speak to God and expect Him to speak with us. We can hear God’s voice. He also reveals new things to prophets we have seen. The one major rule governing any new revelation from God is that it cannot contradict what has been written in the Bible. It may supplement it, however.

This of course contradicts Christian orthodoxy which insists on the sufficiency and finality of the Scriptures.

Those who are more familiar with NAR’s theology would know that it has brought serious distortions to the doctrine of revelation, doctrine of God, Christology, pneumatology, ecclesiology, and eschatology. The distortions are simply too many to be treated in the remaining space of this article.

The dominionists’ claim that their doctrine is an expression of evangelical Christianity is of course an attempt to ensure their own legitimacy in the eyes of the American Christian public. But as Sarah Powell Miller has rightly argued,

Theologically, methodologically, and organisationally, Dominionism represents a new breed of Christian expression, which, though it includes elements of mainstream Evangelicalism, presents a radically different interpretation of Christian mission and history.

Thus, according to Miller, many have described Dominionism as a ‘bastardisation of mainstream Evangelicalism’, while others have characterised it as an ‘anti-Democratic, anti-American movement of subversion.’