The gospel creates unity amongst all believers; the gospel unites all who are in Christ into one people, one family, one nation. Jesus prays for the unity of his people to be manifested in the world (John 17), and that oneness is always a spiritual reality, even if our sin sometimes obscures it. There is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church, as the creed says. This oneness means all believers are part of the same body; catholicity means this one church is universal, embracing all believers in all times and places. The gospel includes the reconciliation of different nations and people groups in Christ (Eph. 2:11ff), with the result that nations can beat their swords into plowshares (Isa. 2).
1/7
We must also affirm that the gospel does not annihilate creational or providential structures like distinct families and nations, but rather sanctifies them. The gospel does not obliterate the distinction between my household and the other households that make up the membership of my local church. The gospel links us together in Christ but does not negate the integrity of each natural family. My household continues to be a real household, even as my household is incorporated into the larger household of God.
2/7
Likewise, the gospel does not negate nationalities. Nations in a group of Christianized nations would each retain their own unique identity (language, borders, culture), even as those nations are linked together in a wider network of nations we’d call Christendom. Yes, a group of Christianized and discipled nations will share many things in common because of their common submission to Christ, but they will also bring their *peculiar* treasures into Christ’s kingdom (Isa. 60).
3/7
In other words, Christendom - a collection of Christian nations - is not the same kind of program we see with secular globalism today. Indeed, it is fundamentally antithetical to it. The gospel does not destroy cultures but sanctifies and transforms them. Globalism dehumanizes; the gospel rehumanizes. Globalism destroys diversity for the sake of unity; the gospel sanctifies diversity for the sake of unity. Globalism is totalitarian; the gospel is liberating.
4/7
Within a Christian nation, the gospel will serve as the foundation of civil unity. A Christian nation, after all, is a people who seek to share not just temporal goods but the eternal good of Christ’s kingdom. A Christian nation is not a nation in which every individual is a Christian, but a nation that is committed to conforming its corporate life, it social customs, its laws and culture, to the rule of Christ as much as possible, recognizing that civil government, the church, and the family each have their own spheres and their own roles to play.
But this does not mean that two Christian nations will become identical any more than two Christian families are identical. The same principles and truths can be worked out and applied in various ways. A Christian nation is simply a nation that recognizes the truths that Christ is Lord, the church is his bride, and the Bible is his Word.
5/7
Note that Pentecost in Acts 2 is not the reversal of Babel but the sanctification of Babel. At Pentecost, the various ethnicities do not revert to speaking one language (= Babelic globalism) but rather each hears the gospel in his own tongue (= distinct Christian nations). The point of Pentecost is not to recreate the Babelic situation, where all of humanity is smushed together into one people with one language. Rather, the point of Pentecost is to bring about the transformation of those nations downstream from Babel. History never goes backwards, it only goes forwards, and Petencost does not undo Babel but take the gospel to the nations formed in the aftermath of a Babel. The point is not for all of humanity to speak one language again, but for the gospel to be spoken in a multitude of languages.
6/7
There is a kind of global oneness promised in the Abrahamic covenant (Genesis 12) and reiterated in other texts (Isaiah 2, Psalm 2, Daniel 4, etc.), and of course these promises undergird the church’s Great Commission. But the discipling of the nations does not eradicate nations, it just transforms and sanctifies them. The Great Commission does not make us faceless, placeless “global citizens.” Rather, the it makes each nation Christian in a distinctive way. Thus: the Christianization of China makes the Chinese more fully and uniquely Chinese; the Christianization of Brazil will make Brazilians more fully and uniquely Brazilian; the Christianization of Canada will make Canadians more fully and uniquely Canadian; etc. The eschatological vision for the nations is one of unity *and* diversity, of many unique people groups joined together as one in Christ, with the oneness and manyness equally ultimate.
7/7
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A 🧵 on ordo amoris, natural affection, and America’s immigration problem:
A lot of the talk today about ordo amoris and natural affections centers around preference - the freedom we have to prefer “our own kind” and whatnot.
I think this is backwards. Preferences do matter and do have their place. But obligations are more fundamental than preferences. When it comes to the discussion of ordo amoris, we should not start by asking about our preferences but start by asking about our duties. To whom do I have the greater obligation?
1/9
In many cases, duties and preferences align quite easily. A mother quite naturally “prefers” her newborn baby to any other newborn baby. But more fundamentally, she has obligations to her newborn that she does not have any other baby in the world because of the bond that exists between her and her own child. Likewise, I prefer my children to your children, but what really matters is that I have an obligation to provide for my children that I do not have for your children. If I don’t provide for my own children, I am worse than unbeliever. But I have no obligation to provide for your children at all in ordinary circumstances - that’s your job and your responsibility. Further, I have a duty to defend my nation if it is under invasion, but I do not have a duty to defend a nation on the other side of the world if it gets invaded. Again: I have an obligation to care for my brothers and sisters in my local congregation that I do not have for Christians in some far away country. And so on. My obligations are not evenly distributed across humanity, or across the church; rather, my obligations to particular humans are conditioned by the various ways in which we are related to one another. I ought to love anyone made in God’s image, yes, but my obligations to particular image bearers intensifies based on the relational proximity and connectedness we have to one another. I have obligations to some people that I do not have to other people, and I should structure my life - my loves, my service, my sacrifices - accordingly.
2/9
All of the examples given above are simple, but it can get more complicated because life throws a variety of situations at us. In the parable of the good Samaritan in Luke 10, the Samaritan has no natural affection for the man on the side of the road, nor does he have any innate preference for the man on the side of the road. His obligation to help the man on the side of the road arises strictly from geographic proximity; the man becomes a neighbor by virtue of crossing his path. Had the Samaritan traveled another road that day, he would not have been obligated to help that particular man.
3/9
The Scriptures affirm the goodness of natural affections, eg, love for my own family and nation.
The Scriptures also teach that natural affections must sometimes be sacrificed for the sake of something greater, namely, following Jesus and being loyal to his church (eg, Matt. 10:36-39 ; Mark 3:31-35; Luke 14:26; etc.). Natural affections are good, but if not kept in proper order, can become an idolatrous rival to Christ.
1/10
One problem with saying, “I should prefer my people to other groups,” is that each one of us belongs to *several* people groups. My people groups include:
- my nuclear family
- my extended family
- my nation/ethnicity
- my region (the South) and state (Alabama)
- my city, town, neighborhood, and street
- my cultural heritage, Western civilization
- my local church
- my denomination
- my theological tradition
- the church catholic
- those who share my skin color
- those who went to the same schools
- those who cheer for the same sports teams
- those who like the same brands
- etc.
The real question is how to organize my loves and loyalties to each of these groups to which I belong. Some of these “in groups” make a strong claim on my love and loyalty than others. There are contexts in which Scripture not only permits, but requires, an “in group” preference.
2/10
Think of the Apostle Paul. He belonged to the Roman Empire as a citizen; he belonged to the nation of Israel, and within that, the tribe of Benjamin and the school of the Pharisees; and he was a Christian who belonged to the church.
From Paul’s writings, we can piece together how he structured his loyalties to these various groups.
In Paul’s own life, he obviously preferred the Jew/Gentile Christian churches over all other groups. And yet his affection for his own people, even though they persecuted him, was so strong, he was willing to be cursed if it would bring the Jews salvation (Romans 9).
Some notes on Psalm 110, Christ’s priestly ministry, and why pastors must be men:
By time we reach the end of psalm Psalm 110, the dead bodies are piling up. In verse 1, Christ’s enemies are made into a footstool for his feet. In verse 2, he rules in the midst of his enemies — and has a scepter to smite them. In verse 5, he shatters kings in the day of his wrath. In verse 6, he executes nations and fills them with corpses.
1/15
And yet right in the middle of this “messiah on the warpath” imagery, we have a reference to Christ being an eternal priest after the order of Melchizedek. It is perhaps easier for us to see how the battle imagery of the psalm fits with Jesus’ kingship. After all, we expect kings — especially Davidic kings — to be battlefield heroes. Jesus does not disappoint in that way. He strikes and smashes his enemies from the beginning to the end of this psalm. The psalm paints the portrait of an utterly victorious king.
2/15
But since the psalm also pays homage to Jesus’ priesthood, an astute reader might wonder where priestly imagery shows up in the psalm. I would contend that the battlefield imagery fits not only with the motif of Jesus as reigning king but also with him as everlasting priest. In the Bible, priests are warriors just as much as kings. Waging holy war has been a priestly calling from the beginning.
3/15