“There is nothing new under the sun”: Ecclesiastes tells it the way it is. I don’t know how often I have thought of a “new” program to try in my congregation only to learn that it had been done before. Sometimes people tell me flat out; other times either they’ve forgotten, or are trying not to hurt my feelings, so I learn on my own by leafing through bulletins or coming across council minutes of years past.

This happens to me with theological issues as well. I’d been reading about postmodernism. Yes, I said to myself, this individualization of the truth explains a lot of the trends in the church that I’d just labeled as pervasive relativism. But once I’d wrapped my mind around this “new” concept and its ramifications for claims to spiritual truth(s), I reread John 18:38. There Pilate asks the ultimate postmodern question: “What is truth?” Either postmodernism isn’t so modern, or Pilate was a man before his times. The footnote in my NIV Bible notes:

Pilate was cynical; he thought that all truth was relative. To many government officials, truth was whatever the majority of people agreed with or whatever helped advance their own personal power or political goals. When there is no basis for truth, there is no basis for moral right and wrong. Justice becomes whatever works or whatever helps those in power. In Jesus and his Word we have a standard for truth and for our moral behavior.¹

Once again, Ecclesiastes is proven correct: there is nothing new under the sun, postmodernism included. But this only goes to show that as we sort through our current theological mess, we must rely heavily on the truth revealed to us in Scripture, with a little help from generations of Christians past who sorted through the same mess.
Pilate asked, “What is truth?” but St. John already had the answer: Jesus is the way and the truth and the life (John 14:6). John reminds us that he was an eyewitness to the events of the crucifixion and resurrection, and therefore his testimony to those events is the truth (John 19:35). This truth is of utmost importance because it is through believing in this truth that we have life (John 20:31).

Now the gospel side of Jesus’ truth is that it is for all people, “for God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him” (John 3:17). However, this all-inclusive gospels also calls forth a response that is exclusive. As Luke Timothy Johnson writes:

Declaring that “Jesus is the Messiah” denies that anyone else is the Messiah (Matthew 16:16). Proclaiming that “Jesus is Lord” denies lordship to all others (1Cor 8:5–6). For 1 John, “confessing” and “denying” the truth about Jesus indicates who really belongs to the community of the beloved disciple (1 John 2:22–23, 4:2–4).²

Salvation is available to all, but it is not claimed by all. Salvation was available to Pilate but he did not lay claim to it. Instead he dismissed the truth that was right in front of him and handed Christ over to be crucified.

There are many who still dismiss the truth outright, but in the church today our greater tendency is to shy away from the truth. We don’t want to offend anyone; we don’t want to come out and say: you are wrong if you don’t believe what we believe. I might believe that Jesus is my savior, but instead of saying that Jesus is the way and the truth and the life, I change it ever so slightly to say that Jesus is my way and my truth and my life. I want to believe that everyone will be saved, so I presume that other people can find a way to the Father apart from the way. I can then recite the creed with confidence because I have found a way that is right for me. I therefore don’t need to evangelize because I am not worried about others’ eternal life (or potential loss thereof). With this understanding of truth, all that is necessary is to do good things for others, to work for peace and justice on earth. Missionaries with this mindset practice accompaniment instead of conversion and pastors preach acceptance instead of repentance.

However, being a Christian inherently sets us apart from the rest of the world and calls forth from us a profession that we know the truth—and that the truth has set us free! Being a Christian means being part of a community that is shaped by the Word of God. Living in harmony with all people certainly is a worthy goal. But while Christians are called to love all people and serve all people so that they will hear the saving message of the cross, we cannot agree with every opinion and we cannot approve every act. As L. T. Johnson puts it: “To be a creedal Christian means inevitably to be a controversialist.”³

Even if postmodernism is not new, its pervasiveness today certainly makes it easier to marginalize orthodoxy. Over the last couple of years, I myself have felt twinges of guilt and shame on hearing the orthodox stance labeled as narrow-minded, bigoted, or unloving. But so it has been throughout church history. Our forebears in the faith even now can teach us to sort through a myriad of false beliefs in order to preserve the one true faith. Church history helps us avoid “generational narcissism” (L. T. Johnson). We both preserve the treasure of the past and hand it over to future generations.

There is nothing new under the sun—and orthodoxy has been under fire a long time now. George Calixt, a seminary professor in Germany (1586–1656) pushed for a merger among Calvinists, Lutherans, and Roman Catholics because he thought the differences they had were so minor as to be ignored. His ideas caused the Syncretistic Strife and ultimately were not embraced. A similar merger was mandated in the Prussian Union (1797–1840) between the Lutheran and Reformed churches because those in power were indifferent to doctrine. Stateside, Samuel Simon Schmucker wanted to alter the Confessions and adjust Lutheran theology to fit the American religious scene. Most dangerously of all the German Christians “got along by going along” with the Nazis, relinquishing the essentials of the faith in order to not rock the boat with the prevailing political forces. We are guilty of “generational narcissism” if we think our own capitulation to postmodern and syncretistic denials of the truth is qualitatively different.

In the midst of these attempts to water down the orthodox understanding of the faith, there has always been a remnant that has had to say no. No, we can’t abandon doctrine for the sake of unity. No, we can’t abandon the cross of Christ in order to be politically correct. Saying no is rarely fun or popular. It’s like being the one strict parent on the block: it would be so easy to cave in and say, whatever, just go and quit nagging me. But if we would not ask our own children to suffer from our indifference and cowardice, how dare we ask it of future generations in the church?

We must continue to make the audacious claim that there is only one gospel, that there is only one Lord, one faith, one baptism. Doctrine matters. It gives us boundaries to protect us, not barriers to the expansion of knowledge. Doctrine preserves the essential truth of the gospel. When it comes to human sinfulness, there is indeed nothing new under the sun. When it comes to the salvation won for us in Christ, there is always a call to repentance and confession of faith. At baptism the confession of faith includes the renunciation of the devil and all his empty promises and everything that goes against the gospel. We take hold of the promise that has been given to us and to proclaim it to the ends of the earth, so that all may know the one who is the way, the truth, and the life, Christ Jesus our Lord.

Notes
1. Life Application Study Bible: NIV (Wheaton and Grand Rapids: Tyndale House and Zondervan, 1991), 1921.
2. Luke Timothy Johnson, The Creed: What Christians Believe and Why it Matters (New York: Doubleday, 2003), 50.
3. Ibid., 51.

Sara Gausmann is the co-pastor with her husband Paul, of St. Paul Lutheran Church (Trinity Road) in York, Pennsylvania. She enjoys reading, walking, tennis, and is currently working on a book that relates her father's homegrown wisdom to the Gospel.