Theological Musings on Christian Discipleship: Part 9, A Role for Revivals

Last post in this meandering series.

I've said a few critical things about revivals and revivalism in this series. But I don't want to be overly critical. I was mainly being contrastive.

For example, in low-church Protestant spaces, given their soteriological leanings toward justification and their pessimistic anthropology that privileges the initiative and action of God, the role of revivalism in effecting spiritual transformation makes sense. Where the soteriology of Catholicism fits with spiritual discipline, the soteriology of Protestantism fits revivalism. Since humans can do nothing to bring about salvation and spiritual transformation praying for revival is pretty much the only game in town. You have to wait for the Spirit to move.

So that's the contrast. That said, while I have shared some criticisms in this series, I don't want to suggest that revivals don't happen or aren't important in the life of the church. I think we can do more in the journey of sanctification than pray for revival, but that doesn't mean revivals are irrelevant. 

My interest in revivals was piqued by two things. The first was reading George Marsden's biography of Jonathan Edwards. Edwards believed in and participated in revivals, and his greatest theological work, The Religions Affections, was devoted to discerning the fruits of revivals. 

The second exposure was reading Collin Hansen's spiritual and intellectual biography of Tim Keller. As a Reformed pastor, Keller was a student of the Puritans and had, as a consequence, a positive view of revivalism. Richard Lovelace's work on American spiritual awakenings, as captured in his book Dynamics of Spiritual Life: An Evangelical Theology of Renewal, had a big influence upon Keller.

Reading Dynamics of Spiritual Life, I was interrupted by this passage from Lovelace concerning the impact of justification upon sanctification:

Much that we have interpreted as a defect of sanctification in church people is really an outgrowth of their loss of bearing with respect to justification. Christians who are no longer sure that God loves and accepts them in Jesus, apart from their present spiritual achievements, are subconsciously radically insecure persons--much less secure than non-Christians, because they have too much light to rest easily under the constant bulletins they receive from their Christian environment about the holiness of God and the righteousness they are supposed to have. Their insecurity shows itself in pride, a fierce defensive assertion of their own righteousness and defensive criticism of others. They come naturally to hate other cultural styles and other races in order to bolster their own security and discharge their suppressed anger. They cling desperately to legal, pharisaical, righteousness, but envy, jealousy and other branches on the tree of sin grow out of their fundamental insecurity.

I don't know how true this assessment is, but I find the analysis intriguing. Specifically, does a lot of the spiritual pride we find among Christians, their "defensive criticism of others," their pharisaical self-righteousness, and their racism stem from a "radical insecurity"? That is, from a Freudian perspective, are these angry, intolerant, and bigoted Christians acting the way they do because they fear, deep down, that God doesn't love them?

Again, I don't know. But it makes me wonder. Specifically, if some part of this analysis is true, that sanctification cannot come from radically insecure people, then there is, as Lovelace would argue, a need in our churches for what he calls "continuous revival." We need to be reminded, over and over again, of God's affection, mercy, love, and favor. The message of grace, and receiving it anew, is always urgent and necessary. Otherwise, insecurity creeps back in and we begin to defensively lash out and judge others. 

Discipline and revival, therefore, don't need to be pitted against each other. Each has their proper role and place.