THE DEEP ECCLESIOLOGY OF THE BODY by Frank Viola

My friends Andrew Jones and Brian McLaren have written about something they call “deep ecclesiology.” This phrase appears to be derived from Noam Chomsky’s linguistic theory of “deep semantics.” Chomsky said that underlying the “surface structures” of the statements we make there lies a deeper and simpler structure that is ingrained in the human capacity for language.

Andrew and Brian have said that in a similar way there lies underneath our varying models of church a basic underlying reality that is manifested in our historical and social settings. This notion has been coined “deep ecclesiology.”

I resonate wholeheartedly with the concept that there is a reality of the church that is higher and deeper than what typically occurs in many modern church structures. To wit, a “deeper” ecclesiology.

At the time of this writing, the phrase “deep ecclesiology” is still being shaped. I have shared my thoughts on this subject with both Brian and Andrew, along with some others in the emerging church conversation.

So this article can be considered a stab at furthering that shaping in the public arena. I strongly believe that the underlying reality of the church is none other than Jesus Christ Himself. Not as a doctrine. Nor as a system of belief. Nor as a set of moral teachings. But as a living Person who has thoughts, feelings, and volition. A living Person who dwells within our spirits and who can be known. To my mind, any ecclesiology that does not make Christ absolutely central in its life, mission, and expression cannot be rightly called “deep.”

The church is the indwelling of Christ in a group of localized people by the Holy Spirit. Those models and forms of church which best enact this reality, giving it visible expression, are adequate toward fulfilling a deep ecclesiology. Those models and forms which do not, should be discarded for those which better enact it.

In this article, I shall attempt to explain how I arrived at this conclusion and what it means (at least for me) in concrete terms. I could have easily subtitled this chapter One Man’s Journey Into a Deep Ecclesiology.

Shortly after I began following the Lord at age sixteen, I was introduced to something called “revivalist theology.” If you are an evangelical Christian, then you may be familiar with this theology. Revivalist theology was founded during the days of the English revivalist George Whitefield. It was later picked up and popularized by Dwight L. Moody.

D.L. Moody was an American revivalist who lived in the 19th century. Historians estimate that Moody preached the gospel to 100 million people in his lifetime. Moody did not have televisions, the Internet, radios, cable TV, fax machines, mp3 players, email, nor did he put out a national magazine. He did most of his preaching on foot and preached in the open air. It has been said that Moody brought one million people to Christ.

During the years of 1870 to 1900, revivalist theology was born. And it largely came through the womb of D.L. Moody’s ministry. What is revivalist theology? Revivalist theology hangs on two unshakable precepts: 1) If you are lost, you must be saved. 2) If you are saved, you must win the lost. According to revivalist theology, every word in the Bible—both Old and New Testaments—hangs on these two precepts. Everything in the Bible can be juiced down to those two things.

To unravel it further, revivalist theology teaches that the only reason why you are alive today is so that you can get other people’s papers in order for heaven. In fact, that is the only reason why God didn’t strike you deader-than-a-hammer after you became a Christian.

Because I had never been taught anything else, I embraced this theology hook, line, and sinker. I later came to realize that revivalist theology is untenable. It dutifully ignores 99.7% of the Bible. (I can only think of two occasions in the New Testament where Christians who were not apostles preached the gospel to the lost. Additionally, I cannot think of any verse in any letter in the New Testament penned by Paul, Peter, John, James or Jude where Christians are exhorted to preach the gospel to the lost.)

Am I against revival? No. Am I against sharing the gospel with the lost? Not at all. What I am against is the tendency to take the New Testament and stretch it to the point where it fits revivalist theology. The vast bulk of the New Testament is not about winning the lost.

After I was thoroughly schooled in revivalist theology (this included knocking on doors, “Four-Lawing” strangers, and taking sinners down “the Romans road”), I was introduced to “the power of God.” I drank deeply from the wells of a movement that obsessed over God’s power. I heard sermon after sermon on the gifts of the Spirit, the recovery of the gifts, miracles, healings, signs and wonders. I also had my share of experiences with God’s power.

Today, I am a firm believer that the power of God is real and operative in our time. However, when I stood back from that season in my life, I made a few telling observations. First, most of the people that I ran around with who incessantly talked about “the power of God” were the same people who were most lacking in God’s power! I saw this countless times. So much so that it became a predictable pattern.

Second, I met a few King Sauls, a few Balaams, and a few Samsons in this camp. Explanation: These three men had tremendous outward power. King Saul prophesied accurately, Balaam had an incredible gift of the word of knowledge and the word of wisdom, and Samson was unstoppable in his display of physical strength.

But there was one other thing that these three men shared. They all had defective characters in some arena of their lives. And their flesh was very much alive in those arenas. Outwardly, they had impressive gifts of spiritual power. But inwardly, they lacked something fundamental.

For me, this has been one of the greatest imponderables of being a Christian. I have personally known Christian leaders who had incredible giftings—gifts of healing, word of knowledge, spiritual understanding and insight, and the ability to preach and write with great anointing. Some of these men had a very strong devotional life and set themselves up as leaders in this area.

Yet . . . as dismaying as it sounds . . . these same men didn’t have the most basic grasp of Christ in the most basic areas of the Christian life. They had profound human foibles that never traveled to the cross. The tragedy is that such men drew followings with their powerful gifts. Yet subtly, their uncrucified flesh always ended up damaging their work and causing incalculable harm to many innocent souls.

Perhaps the reason for this paradox is found in Paul’s words: “For God’s gifts and His call are irrevocable” (Rom. 11:29). A gift is something that is freely given. It’s unmerited and unearned. Once granted, it cannot be removed. A gift, then, is no measure of spirituality or character development. Neither is it an evidence of God’s approval nor a sign of God’s favor. It’s simply a spiritual or supernatural ability given freely and irrevocably by God’s grace (Eph. 4:8-11; Rom. 12:6-8). This makes spiritual gifting a very dangerous thing. For if the vessel is not broken, or it goes off the rails later in life, the gifting becomes a liability.

The power of God that is wielded by an unbroken vessel is a very hazardous thing indeed. A destructive thing even. Not a few men have used the holy things of God for their own ends. And the result was disaster.

In one of his letters, Paul carries on rather loudly about the peril of possessing gifts of great spiritual power—including spiritual insight into the deep mysteries of God—and yet lacking some of the basic features of love, like honesty, humility, and kindness (see 1 Cor. 13:1-3). Character, therefore, and not gifting, is the only reliable sign of God’s work in a person’s life (Matt. 7:22-23).

I made another puzzling observation on this score. I noticed that so many of my fellow brethren who talked about the power of God seemed to be self-absorbed. They had an uncommon knack for talking about themselves and how God was using them with His power. Whenever they would testify, 10% of it seemed to be about what God was doing. The other 90% was how God was using them and what they were doing.

More… http://www.christisall.org/2007/01/24/the-deep-ecclesiology-of-the-body-by-frank-viola/