In this essay I interact with J. Gresham Machen’s final chapter on the church, addressing it in two parts. Part 1 presents Machen’s historical context and a summary of his argument. Part 2 proposes several reasons why Machen’s argument is important for the church today.
Part 1: Historical Context and Summary of Machen’s Argument
To give a brief sketch of the historical context in which Machen addressed the church, I focus on two leading proponents of the type of liberalism against which Machen battled—namely, Adolph von Harnack and Albrecht Ritschl.
Adolph von Harnack’s Husk and Kernel
In his What is Christianity?, Adolph von Harnack decried Christianity as an institutionalized religion of dogma, an institutionalization and dogmatization that had corrupted the early church as evidenced by its councils and creedal formulations.[1] In its place, he advocated a religion of the heart: the way of life that Jesus himself had taught. His method in arriving at this liberal articulation of Christianity was that of distinguishing between the “kernel” and the “husk”: the kernel being the permanent, pure essence of Christianity, and the husk being its temporal/ historical, (often) corrupted expression. As von Harnack presented the kernel, “In the combination of these ideas—God the Father, Providence, the position of men as God’s children, the infinite value of the human soul—the whole gospel is expressed” (Lecture 4).
1. Adolf von Harnack, What Is Christianity?, trans. Thomas Bailey Saunders (Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1978). References to this work will be in parenthesis and indicate the lecture from which the citation comes.
Amalgamating these ideas, von Harnack’s liberalism consisted of three tenets.[2] First, “the kingdom of God and its coming” (Lecture 3). Specifically, “The kingdom of God comes by coming to the individual, by entering into his soul and laying hold of it. True, the kingdom of God is the rule of God; but it is the rule of the holy God in the hearts of individuals. God Himself is the kingdom. It is . . . a question of . . . God and the soul, the soul and its God” (Lecture 3). The flavor of a de-institutionalized and non-dogmatic, subjective Christianity is well pronounced.
2. Though he considered and developed them as three “heads,” he maintained, “They are each of such a nature as to contain the whole, and hence it can be exhibited in its entirety under any one of them” (Lecture 3).
Second, “God the Father and the infinite value of the human soul” (Lecture 4). This tenet set the stage for von Harnack’s affirmations of (1) the Fatherhood of God, a principle he affirms is true of all human beings everywhere, not just of Christians in their churches; and, flowing from it, (2) the brotherhood of all humanity, again a principle that he would not restrict to followers of Jesus Christ. Because God the Father unites to himself all human beings as his children, the infinite value of their “ennobled” soul is underscored (Lecture 4).
Third, “the higher righteousness and the commandment of love” (Lecture 4). According to von Harnack, Jesus’s constant denunciation and overturning of the Jewish religion of his day established Christianity as an ethical religion freed of “self-seeking and ritual elements” that could be reduced ultimately “to one root and to one motive—love” (Lecture 4). Such love “must completely fill the soul; it is what remains when the soul dies to itself. In this sense of love is the new life already begun. But it is always the love which serves, and only in this function does it exist and live” (Lecture 4). Accordingly, this third tenet
combines religion and morality. It is a point which must be felt; it is not easy to define. In view of the Beatitudes, it may, perhaps, best be described as humility. Jesus made love and humility one. . . . In Jesus’ view, this humility, which is the love of God of which we are capable . . . is an abiding disposition towards the good, and that out of which everything that is good springs and grows. (Lecture 4)
Christianity as a moralistic religion of humble love is emphasized.
In his summary, von Harnack offers “the three spheres which we have distinguished—the kingdom of God, God as the Father and the infinite value of the human soul, and the higher righteousness showing itself in love—coalesce; for ultimately the kingdom is nothing but the treasure which the soul possesses in the eternal and merciful God” (Lecture 5).
Albrecht Ritschl’s Lived Faith
Similar to von Harnack, in The Christian Doctrine of Justification and Reconciliation,[3] Albrecht Ritschl bemoaned the traditional exposition and understanding of “the Christian faith [as] some imperfect form of theology, that is, some system of ideas of God and humanity” that is far removed from religious self-consciousness—particularly that of the original/apostolic Christian community (3)[4]—and worship of God (210–11).[5] For Ritschl, Christianity is not a doctrinal system, but a lived faith in community.
3. Albrecht Ritschl, The Christian Doctrine of Justification and Reconciliation, 3 vols. 3rd ed., trans. H. R. Mackintosh and A. B. Macaulay (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1900). All citations are taken from Volume 3.
4. For Ritschl, this community, as particularly formed by the apostle Paul, “express[ed] most sharply the opposition between Christianity and Judaism. . . . [B]y means of the Pauline formulas the uniqueness of Christianity is marked off from the Pharisaic falsification of the religion of the Old Testament, and thereby the Christian Church [is] most securely protected against a recrudescence of the latter error” (pp. 3–4). Ritschl’s disdain for traditional forms of Christianity is evident.
5. Ritschl rehearsed what for him was a disgustingly doctrinal approach to Christianity, one that “is so predominately inspired by purely rational ideas of God and sin and redemption [and] is not the positive theology which we need” (5).
Like von Harnack’s focus on the kingdom of God as love, Ritschl emphasized “the Christian idea of the Kingdom of God, which [is] the correlate of the conception of God as love, denotes the association of mankind—an association both extensively and intensively the most comprehensive possible—through the reciprocal moral action of its members” (284). Emphasizing “the community,” Ritschl distinguished between the church and the kingdom:
The self-same subject, namely, the community drawn together by Christ, constitutes the Church in so far as its members unite in the same religious worship, and, further, create for this purpose a legal constitution; while, on the other hand, it constitutes the Kingdom of God in so far as the members of the community give themselves to the interchange of action prompted by love. (290)
By the community’s loving action comes about the revelation of the truth that God is love: “The creation of this fellowship of love among men, accordingly, is not only the end [purpose] of the world, but at the same time the completed revelation of God Himself, beyond which none other and none higher can be conceived” (291). The church, the kingdom of God, and love are interwoven as the summum bonum of existence, and this supreme good is known by the people of the community not rationally or dogmatically, but only as they relate to it.
Faith in God’s providence is an essential feature of Ritschl’s agenda:
For that unified view of the world, the ruling idea of which is that of the supramundane [spiritual, heavenly] God, Who as our Father in Christ loves us and unites us in His Kingdom for the realization of that destiny in which we see the final end [purpose] of the world, as well as the corresponding estimate of self, constitutes the realm within which come to be formed all such ideas as that all things and events in the world serve our good, because as children of God we are objects of His special care and help. (617–18)[6]
6. Von Harnack also highlighted divine providence as part of the gospel because it “gives the assurance that, in spite of every struggle, peace, certainty, and something within that can never be destroyed will be the crown of a life rightly led” (Lecture 8).
To members of the community, God promises to his providential care, which they know not theoretically but by personal experience (618).
In summary, both von Harnack and Ritschl proposed a liberal form of Christianity that (1) distanced itself from doctrine and institutionalism and re-envisioned it as living the way of Jesus; (2) conceptualized God as Father of all human beings (in the same way he is Father of Christians); (3) focused on the kingdom of God as his rule in human hearts and as related to the idea of God as love; (4) prioritized human experience over objective norms like Scripture and theology; (5) emphasized the common community or brotherhood of all human beings, whose souls are of infinite value; (6) appealed to the providence of God and his particular care for all human beings for their good; and (7) highlighted moralistic religion and the ethic of love.
This brief sketch of two leading theologians provides some of the context into which Machen stepped and directed his Christianity and Liberalism.
Machen’s Response to von Harnack and Ritschl
Specifically, in his seventh and final chapter, Machen treats the church.[7] While affirming that both Christianity and liberalism are “interested in social institutions” (133), Machen underscores the significant difference between the two religions’ notion of sociality. Reflecting the sentiments of P. T. Forsyth—“the same act which sets us in Christ sets us also in the society of Christ. . . . It puts us into a relation with all saints which we may neglect to our bane but which we cannot destroy”[8]—Machen insists, “When, according to Christian belief, lost souls are saved, the saved ones become united in . . . the brotherhood of the Christian Church” (133). For Machen, this is a far cry from “the liberal doctrine of the ‘brotherhood of man’ . . . that all men everywhere . . . are brothers” (133).
7. Parenthetical references are to the page numbers in J. Gresham Machen, Christianity and Liberalism, new ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans 2009). Machen commonly capitalizes the words “Church” and “Cross,” but I will not follow his convention.
8. P T. Forsyth, The Church, the Gospel, and Society (London: Independent Press, 1962), 61–62. Forsyth studied under Ritschl, but he later rejected much of liberal understanding of humanity and the Bible. Though Forsyth’s book was first published in 1962, it was a reprint of two of Forsyth’s addresses delivered in 1905. Thus, the conceptual worlds of Forsyth and Machen overlapped at that time.
Nuancing his statement, Machen acknowledges that such a doctrine contains some truth: in the sense of creation, all human beings are creatures of the one Creator and are of the same nature. Accordingly, Christianity “can accept all that the modern liberal means by the brotherhood of man” (133). But Machen points to a different “Christian” notion of brotherhood: in the sense of salvation, only those who are rescued from sin by Jesus Christ constitute “the brotherhood of the redeemed” (134).
Machen intriguingly affirms both a universality and an exclusivity at the heart of Christianity: First and universally, “the Christian brotherhood is open without distinction to all” (134), and the church’s missional efforts both affirm and work to fulfill this universal aspect. Moreover, Christianity insists that Christians engage in loving service toward all people in need, not just other Christians. Machen insists, however, that such “lesser” service is not sufficient and thus cannot be “the main business” of Christians and their churches (134). Second and exclusively, the Christian brotherhood seeks to bring sinners to Jesus Christ, who alone is the Savior of the world. While building a brotherhood-like society—for example, by improving the conditions of the world and/or by living according to the Golden Rule—is “welcomed,” is “valuable for [its] own sake” (134), and fosters conditions that are favorable for evangelism, its contribution is ultimately small and will ultimately prove to be ineffective. Christians, not Christian principles, are the agents necessary for the transformation of society. Indeed, “the church is the highest Christian answer to the social needs of man” (135).
Tragically, this church has become downgraded, and Machen places the blame squarely on the church itself: “the church of today has been unfaithful to her Lord by admitting great companies of non-Christian person, not only into her membership, but into her teaching agencies” (135). These leaders, who have never adequately confessed the Christian faith but deny the gospel instead, direct ministries, dominate church councils, and determine church teaching. Their “faith and practice is anti-Christian to the core” (135).
To be clear, Machen is not evaluating the faith of these liberal leaders; theirs may or may not be a saving faith. The issue, then, is not whether “liberals are Christian,” but the fact that “liberalism is not Christianity” (135). Accordingly, Machen avers that “it is highly undesirable that liberalism and Christianity should continue to be propagated within the bound of the same organization. A separation between the two parties in the church is the crying need of the hour” (135–36).
Two Key Issues: Doctrinal Differences and Dishonesty
To be expected, the call for separation was opposed by many people in the church, which has (allegedly) “room both for liberals and for conservatives” (136). Of course, this unitive way forward demands that conservatives focus on substantial issues—as determined by liberalism—and give up “trifling matters” such as Jesus’s “vicarious atonement for sin” (136). Machen opposes such efforts for two reasons. First, “the effort to sink doctrinal differences and unite the church” (137) is narrow-mindedly absurd. He rebukes liberals for rejecting the convictions of others without attempting to understand those convictions. He further reproves them for categorizing doctrine and differences over doctrine as “trifles” (137); such a dismissal proves that liberalism misunderstands and seeks to undermine what is at the core of Christianity: doctrine! Christianity confesses the vicarious sacrifice of Christ, who “really bore the guilt of men’s sins on the cross” (137). Liberalism belittles that doctrine and calls conservatives to put aside such “trifling” divisive matters for the sake of unity. Machen assesses that the liberal approach is “very narrow and very absurd” (137).
The second reason for Machen’s rejection of the liberal approach to unity is that it is dishonest. Machen critiques liberalism for its failure to acknowledge that “evangelical churches are creedal churches” (137), and “if a [liberal] does not accept their creed he has no right to a place in their teaching ministry” (137–38). Machen laments the novel practice of liberal ministers subscribing to a creedal confession—the Westminster Confession of Faith, for example—while at the same time denying their solemn subscription. Such denial is pure dishonesty! Ministers who use such nefarious tactics seek “a place in the ministry that they may teach what is directly contrary to the Confession of Faith to which they subscribe” (139), thereby combatting rather than propagating the gospel.
Machen’s Counsel for Liberals
Machen offers a way forward for liberalism: a liberal “may either unite himself with some other existing [liberal] body or else found [create] a new body to suit himself” (139). Machen notes several disadvantages to this approach—e.g., loss of church property—for liberals but underscores the “one supreme advantage which overbalances all such disadvantages” (139): honesty. He points approvingly to the example of the Unitarian Church, which is an honest “church without an authoritative Bible, without doctrinal requirements, and without a creed” (139–40). Machen’s invitation, then, is for liberals to leave their conservative/creedal church, thus abandoning hope to control and reshape it into a liberal mode, for the sake of honesty. Such honesty would end the need for equivocal language (Christians and liberals use the same words—gospel, salvation, church—but with different meanings) and for avoiding offence (feigning agreement where there is disagreement). Indeed, honesty on the part of liberals would win the respect of conservatives and move the discussion to higher ground. Machen even opines that the loss of church property would not seriously hamper liberalism.
Machen’s dream for liberals to withdraw from evangelical churches raises the question: “why should not the conservatives be the ones to withdraw” (140)? He admits that the situation may come to this conservative departure and even demands that it should come to it if liberalism gains the upper hand; “then no evangelical Christian can continue to support the church’s work” (140). The two religions—Christianity and liberalism—are mutually exclusive, as highlighted by their opposing view of the vicarious sacrifice of Christ to atone for sin. Conservative members cannot honestly live with mutually exclusive worldviews and thus must withdraw both their presence in and their (financial) support for their emerging liberal church. But, Machen cautions, such withdrawal must not come prematurely. Evangelical churches have financial trusts that are intended for the spread of the biblical and confessionally supported gospel. Given that “a trust is a sacred thing” (141), “to devote them to any other purpose . . . would be a violation of trust” (141). By remaining in their liberal-leaning churches, conservatives are able to hold these trusts in trust.
In light of these considerations, Machen calls again for liberals to withdraw voluntarily, and for the sake of harmony and cooperation, from evangelical churches. He anticipates another common objection: “is not advocacy of such separation a flagrant instance of intolerance” (142)? His answer relies on an important distinction between involuntary organizations (e.g., citizenship in a nation), which must be tolerant, and voluntary organizations, which must be intolerant or else will cease to exist. Religion is a voluntary institution: religious people willingly covenant together to be a church that exists for certain purposes. Such voluntary association is a fundamental human right. Evangelical churches consist of members “who have come to agreement in a certain message about Christ and who desire to unite in the propagation of that message, as it is set forth in their creed on the basis of the Bible” (142). Their members are free to associate voluntarily for such a purpose. Similarly, liberals may voluntarily establish religious organizations “with some purpose other than the propagation of a message—for example, the purpose of promoting in the world, simply by exhortation and by the inspiration of the example of Jesus, a certain type of life” (142). They are free to associate voluntarily for such a purpose. What is unconscionable, however, is for evangelical churches founded on gospel purposes to support people and programs that combat the gospel message, as does liberalism. Such “is not tolerance but simple dishonesty” (143).
Machen laments the state of evangelism in many churches. They support evangelistic engagement through their agencies (e.g., mission boards), but many of these parachurch agencies propagate not only the true gospel but a false gospel as well: “perhaps half goes to the support of true missionaries of the cross, while the other half goes to the support of those who are persuading men that the message of the cross is unnecessary or wrong” (144–45). The neutralizing effect of these opposing actions means that support for missional agencies is “altogether absurd” (145). Machen even decries well-meaning attempts to designate one’s financial gifts, noting that the gospel-inhibiting misuse of such designated funds is becoming commonplace.
A possible solution is for completely autonomous local churches to support their own missional work apart from resources contributed by other churches. Machen dismisses the idea of “a purely congregational system” (145); the idea is impracticable for two reasons. It begs the question of whether congregationalism “is desirable in itself” (145), and it is unworkable when it comes to mission agencies because they depend on the financial support of many churches. Importantly, evangelical churches cannot support mission agencies that oppose the gospel.
Machen’s Counsel for Evangelicals
In the face of the liberal peril, what should evangelicals do? A first step is to “encourage those who are engaging in the intellectual and spiritual struggle” (146–47). The intellectual battle must consist of both articulating and defending Christianity. Against those who focus solely on the propagation aspect, Machen suspects an anti-intellectualism underlying this approach, which he decries. While granting that the proclamation of the gospel might have sufficed historically,[9] given the juncture in which the church currently finds itself, Machen opines that “the slightest avoidance of the defense of the gospel is just sheer unfaithfulness to the Lord” (147). A second step is to underscore the responsibility of church leaders to carefully assess the qualifications of candidates for church office. It is not “kind” to promote candidates who do not affirm the doctrines of the church; such an elevation to office fosters dishonesty in those candidates and neglects the fact that those candidates have other churches to which they can be directed (148).
9. Machen illustrates that a defense of the gospel has its historical precedents such as the apologists’ denunciation of the early church heresy of Gnosticism and the medieval condemnation of a graceless Christianity.
A third step is to insist that church leaders should not settle for candidates for the pastorate who merely “do not deny” the gospel (148). Rather, the pastoral office should be filled by ministers who “shall be on fire with the cross, whose whole life shall be one burning sacrifice of gratitude” to the Savior (148). A fourth—and the most important—step is to call for a renewal of Christian education. Machen laments the decline of education generally and of Christian education specifically. He blames this demise on the present educational philosophy, the emphasis on educational methodology rather than content, and the growing state control of education. More importantly still, Machen attributes the rise of ignorance of Christ to “the false notion that Christianity is a life and not also a doctrine; if Christianity is not a doctrine, then of course teaching is not necessary to Christianity” (149). This key tenet of liberalism—voiced by both von Harnack and Ritschl and which Machen often and vociferously denounces—has led to disregarding Scripture and discarding the cross. Thus, he calls for a renewal of Christian education.
Hope on the Horizon
In his conclusion, Machen sounds a note of optimism. He urges hope grounded on God’s promises, a return to the study of Scripture, fighting for Christianity with love and faithfulness while eschewing personal agendas, faith that Christ is still building his church,[10] and assurance of a new Reformation. Moreover, Machen envisions evangelicals forming new Christian groups of redeemed men and women who assemble together for biblical worship and experience genuine fellowship through “the true unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (151; allusion to Eph. 4:3). Where the true church gathers as the house of God, “from under the threshold of that house will go forth a river that will revive the weary world” (152).
10. As God did in the second century against Gnosticism and in the Middle Ages against merit theology (150–51).
Tomorrow, in Part 2, we will consider why Machen’s argument is important for the church today.
