My point was that the Christians who made the decisions to hallow physical places and objects stated that they did so to protect the incarnational theology they were formulating. It was a concern to them; it ought to be a concern to us because they are the ones that established orthodox theology in the first place. That’s my point.

Anyway, my overall argument was that we are already almost to the bottom of the slippery slope, looking at the totality of protestant history. That it’s not in sight to you completely begs the question of whether you’re blind or I’m imagining things.

All the best.

Do you feel that between 100 A.D. and now there has never been any authentic Christianity? If so, how are you going to re-establish what Christian orthodoxy consists of for anyone but yourself?

There have existed, in every age, authentic Christian expressions of faith. No argument there. God’s work is to animate fallen humans with Divine power. I don’t seek to reestablish Christian orthodoxy, only to walk closely with my good Father and his kids until the day he calls me home.

Do you know that it was the wealthy who donated their homes to the place of meeting in the years before Christianity was made legal in the Roman Empire, and that they began almost immediately to treat them as sacred?

The New Testament talks about sacred people, not sacred buildings.

I have to disagree with you that the Protestant reformers retained a model of “holy place, not holy people.”

Are you sure this either-or dichotomy isn’t a completely modern paradigm? Of course it starts with people, but I’ve never seen a good reason why it can’t extend to places and things in some manner.

The point I’m trying to make is that we are the holy dwelling place of God. It is us. Not a building. Treating places as sacred probably doesn’t violate a direct command of Scripture but it may make it difficult for us to see past religious observance to a Spirit-led life.

There’s something more important than all of this, however. Have you considered the impact it will have on Christian thinking if there’s a large movement away from the idea that God can hallow material nature, objects, and forms? What if that begins to undermine the doctrine of Christ’s incarnation, or the resurrection of the body, later on?

I’m sorry AR, but I don’t see a connection between the sacredness of a location, particular time on Sunday, a building and Christ’s incarnation or resurrection.

Don’t forget that there has been plenty of heresy per square inch inside religious structures over the years.

All of this is basically beside the point anyway, right? Our faith stands or falls on God’s activity in human history (i.e. the Old and New Covenants, Christ’s death and resurrection, the present work of the Spirit… our faith in the once for all finished work of Christ) not upon our location once or twice a week (i.e. in a sacred space).

Peace of Christ to you.

Have you considered the impact it will have on Christian thinking if there’s a large movement away from the idea that God can hallow material nature, objects, and forms?

That’s just Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt. Scare tactic. Don’t try to convince me of a “slippery slope” when no such slope is in sight.

You are right though, about the fact that early christians modified their homes to be meeting places that could accomidate up to around 70 people or so. Archaeologists have found an example of this in Syria. It was simply a private home remodeled as a Christian gathering place. However, these remodeled houses cannot rightfully be called “church buildings.” They were simply homes that had been refurbished to accommodate larger assemblies. Further, these homes were never called temples or anything like that. Christians didn’t begin calling their buildings “temples” until the fifteenth century.

The fact of the matter is for the first three centuries Christians did not have any special buildings. Christianity was essentially a home-centered movement. Some argue that this is because Christians were not permitted to erect church buildings, but this is not true. Meeting in homes was a conscious choice of the early Christians.

I spent two years in a house church. Most of that time I was studying church history. Do you know that it was the wealthy who donated their homes to the place of meeting in the years before Christianity was made legal in the Roman Empire, and that they began almost immediately to treat them as sacred? Archeologically, we’ve got large rooms adorned with Christian images and costly materials from very early on.

I have to disagree with you that the Protestant reformers retained a model of “holy place, not holy people.” I’m afraid that was a very careless thing to say, as they were all very concerned with the holiness of people in spite of not immediately throwing overboard the idea of a holy place. Are you sure this either-or dichotomy isn’t a completely modern paradigm? Of course it starts with people, but I’ve never seen a good reason why it can’t extend to places and things in some manner.

There’s something more important than all of this, however. Have you considered the impact it will have on Christian thinking if there’s a large movement away from the idea that God can hallow material nature, objects, and forms? What if that begins to undermine the doctrine of Christ’s incarnation, or the resurrection of the body, later on? You may think that’s silly, but it was one of the most serious concerns of the theologians who established the Christian church in the early centuries. I’m talking about the people who formulated the doctrine of the Trinity, the natures of Christ, and the canon of the New Testament. These same people built massive churches and practiced sacraments. Apparently they did NOT think that the “language of the New Testament” was only of the body of Christ in homes – and they were still speaking that language, unlike us. If we can’t preserve a continuity with the thinking of those people, we may someday forget why they even believed what they believe, and the things that you consider orthodox and unassailable about the Christian faith may be lost to a lot of people.

I wonder if the new look of the church will be such a relief to your children and grandchildren. Given the historical trend, why should they be more fortunate than you?

I’m sympathetic to your dissatisfaction, but have you considered that you might simply be going further down the same road that got us where we are today? Revolutions, silent or otherwise, have a tendency to leave the population bereft of yet something else that made life worth living.

I wish people would try to consider history more carefully.

There’s no way I can know things will be better. I’m not sure what historical trend you have in mind but I’ll assume it’s the church culture. The historical trend is one of both faith and flesh. I’m not looking for the promise land on earth, only a means to live out my faith more authentically. Faith in community.

I believe I have history in mind as I consider these things. I see a pattern in the early church that is quite different than the pattern we’re experiencing today.

It seems clear to me that the whole protestant movement has always had a revolutionary thrust, and as time goes on it spawns an increasing number of increasingly unsatisfying baby revolutions. A revolution doesn’t essentially change a society – it only tries to remove something. Usually it removes a lot more than people intended it to.

The revolution I have in mind is one where God’s people don’t have to busy themselves with church activity. We can engage people where they are instead of expecting them to come to our buildings so we can reach them.

As for the sacredness of church buildings…it’s true that the real temple that God is building is in human hearts and in the building of all those hearts together. Yet for ages, Christians who were actually experiencing that truth extended sanctity to the place where they worshipped. You see, what was happening there was so holy it spilled over, even into the physical nature. They expected all nature to be saved with them and because of them. It strikes me that people who do not know how to experience any ground as “hallowed” are people who have ceased to experience the holiness of hallowed hearts united in worship. That does not speak well for their ability to establish something better than their fathers had.

It seems that you and those who agree with you are proposing to push the bounds of the protestant revolution to the utmost limits: down with all form, all physical signs, all institution, all authority. You are proposing to test the outermost bounds of liberal societal theory, even if you’e rejected the full extent of liberal theology. Before you go there, why not consider what a really thorough conservation might accomplish?

The protestant reformation didn’t go far enough. The reformers put the pulpit in the middle of the stage (signifying the centrality of the word of God), took down the icons, and made a much simpler space. But they retained the holy place, not holy people, model that strikes me as a departure from the biblical pattern.

Regardless, it’s not about a building. Buildings aren’t a central feature of the mission. “Go into all the world and preach the gospel,” does not necessetate physical structures. I’m not advocating a slavish commitment to the house church model but the language of the New Testament is of the body of Christ in homes. Christianity is lived out where people live. Spending millions on buildings and salaries seems secondary to the gospel mission.

Aside from that, I think your observation about pastors getting in with good intentions but being changed by “the role” is quite insightful. It explains a lot.

Also, Mark Noll says that “competition” between churches was a necessary result of the American experiment. Where so many different religions exist in close proximity, they must compete for the interest of the unconverted. It’s a sort of historical dynamic. It seems obvious that this could give rise to the sort of consumerism that we see in today’s Christian scene, wherever churches are willing to be swept away by it. Frankly, evangelicalsim looks prosperous but their worldly methods guarantee they will eventually be discredited. Perhaps the tortoise will overtake the hare.

(At that point, being the rebellious child of the hare would be pretty meaningless. And now I have to wonder – how deeply are some of you invested in THAT role?)

I don’t define myself by a connection–even as a rebel–to a slick consumer religion (if that’s what you had in mind with the “rebellious child of the hare” analogy). I’m defined by my connection to the once for all finished work of Jesus who connected me to my loving Father in heaven. I’m his child. And because of that I’m connected to Father’s kingdom work on earth.

I’m sympathetic to your dissatisfaction, but have you considered that you might simply be going further down the same road that got us where we are today? Revolutions, silent or otherwise, have a tendency to leave the population bereft of yet something else that made life worth living.

I wish people would try to consider history more carefully.

It seems clear to me that the whole protestant movement has always had a revolutionary thrust, and as time goes on it spawns an increasing number of increasingly unsatisfying baby revolutions. A revolution doesn’t essentially change a society – it only tries to remove something. Usually it removes a lot more than people intended it to.

As for the sacredness of church buildings…it’s true that the real temple that God is building is in human hearts and in the building of all those hearts together. Yet for ages, Christians who were actually experiencing that truth extended sanctity to the place where they worshipped. You see, what was happening there was so holy it spilled over, even into the physical nature. They expected all nature to be saved with them and because of them. It strikes me that people who do not know how to experience any ground as “hallowed” are people who have ceased to experience the holiness of hallowed hearts united in worship. That does not speak well for their ability to establish something better than their fathers had.

It seems that you and those who agree with you are proposing to push the bounds of the protestant revolution to the utmost limits: down with all form, all physical signs, all institution, all authority. You are proposing to test the outermost bounds of liberal societal theory, even if you’e rejected the full extent of liberal theology. Before you go there, why not consider what a really thorough conservation might accomplish?

Aside from that, I think your observation about pastors getting in with good intentions but being changed by “the role” is quite insightful. It explains a lot.

Also, Mark Noll says that “competition” between churches was a necessary result of the American experiment. Where so many different religions exist in close proximity, they must compete for the interest of the unconverted. It’s a sort of historical dynamic. It seems obvious that this could give rise to the sort of consumerism that we see in today’s Christian scene, wherever churches are willing to be swept away by it. Frankly, evangelicalsim looks prosperous but their worldly methods guarantee they will eventually be discredited. Perhaps the tortoise will overtake the hare.

(At that point, being the rebellious child of the hare would be pretty meaningless. And now I have to wonder – how deeply are some of you invested in THAT role?)