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What is it about Calvinism that allows the Pharisee to find a comfortable home?

That’s an unfair question.  I’m not sure Calvinism itself promotes Pharisaical tendencies in people.  I suspect Pharisees find homes in other theological camps as well.  But I’ve come to know the Reformed world better than other worlds because “those are my people.”  That’s the jersey I wear, the set I chill in.

And here I am, a Pharisee, comfortable in Reformed dress.  How does that happen?

Well, this Pharisee is bent toward precision, accuracy, “getting things right.” Boy, that’s an apt description of the world of Reformed theology if there ever was one.  The Reformed world thrives on accuracy and correctness.  It’s a form of worship.  Of course, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get things right and to be precise–it’s even necessary (John 4:24).  There’s nothing wrong unless you leave out Jesus or you land somewhere short of adoration for the Savior.  That’s how a Pharisee like me enters the Reformed party, drinks all the punch, and never gets intoxicated with Christ.

But the blending of Calvinism with Pharisee-ism happens because the Pharisee is suspicious by sinful nature.  He suspects everything, really, but especially joy.  Take some of your greatest Reformation-era theologians and their descendants–from Calvin and Luther to Edwards and Spurgeon to Piper and Mahaney and others–and you’ll find that they all thought much of the joy Christ gives and/or they fought hard for that joy.  They didn’t suspect joy as much as they sought it.  But where Reformed theology ends with “getting it right” and not with a fuller embrace of Jesus, joy is lost.  This is why many people who meet Calvinists or hear the word “Calvinism” sorta have a gray, rainy, dreary picture in their heads.  It’s because of Pharisees like me who lack joy and suspect the “dangerous,” imprecise, “free-wheeling,” and “free-willing” joy of others.

The third reason Pharisee-ism and Calvinism become bedfellows is the Pharisee’s fear.  If you’re fundamentally afraid, a great place to hide is behind the rich heritage and theology of Reformed Christianity.  You can bully from behind a wall of history, people, places, and ideas that most folks simply aren’t aware of.  And from that castle tower a Pharisee like me can shoot arrows and pour tar on anything that looks “imprecise” or “joyful.”  The strength of Calvinism–its sound and detailed articulations of biblical truth–becomes the wall behind which the fearful Pharisee feels safe.  But locked behind a castle wall is a lonely place.

In our last post we thought about one other way in which Pharisees find their way into Calvinism.  The Reformed world has from its inception been an embattled world.  Many Reformers were persecuted, hunted, vilified, and martyred.  Some Reformers returned the favor.  That was then.  But even today to be a “Calvinist” in some circles is a dirty word, a slur.  And it’s only been recently that being a Calvinist made you one of the cool kids.  For most of the history, it’s been battle and fight in many parts of the world.  Can we be surprised that Reformed circles are places where angry people find company?  Or at least a respectable place to hide their anger, to make the anger respectable?  After all, “other” Christians don’t have it all correct, are given to enthusiasm, and cause us to fear we may just lose this or that really important thing.  The Pharisee thinks: Someone died for that really important thing!  I’ll die for that really important thing!  By golly, I’m mad! But in truth, I’m not dying for anything in my cushy western lifestyle.  I’m just mad.  I’m a Pharisee hanging out in comfortable Calvinist places.

None of these things should be true.  A Pharisee should not be comfortable with Calvinists–or any Bible-believing Christians for that matter.  Jesus was a Calvinist (speaking anachronistically of course).  The Pharisees were not comfortable with him.  Peter, James, and John were Calvinists (again, speaking anachronistically), and the Pharisees continued to persecute them.  Paul was a Pharisee, but then he became a Calvinist (that’s right… speaking anachronistically), and his former homies, the Pharisees, sought his head, too.  What’s wrong with today’s Calvinism that it allows Pharisees like me to hang out?  Or, what’s wrong wtih me in my Pharisaical commitments that I can be a Calvinist?

Here’s another place where these two points of view meet and mix and mingle in my life.  I’m a Pharisee and a Calvinist because I’m selfish.  At bottom, in my sinful, selfish, Pharisaical nature I want what I want the way I want it.  “I” stands guard like a giant phalanx over my desires.  They are my desires and I want them fulfilled.  Pharisee.

This, too, is why Pharisees long to be in leadership.  Yes, we’ll want to do things correctly.  And we’ll want to protect the church from error and the people from wolves.  And we’ll want to fight the battles that need fighting.  We’re Calvin’s pit bulls.  And some of that is godly and noble.  But all that steel resolve is mixed with the weak alloy of selfishness.  I want to be a soldier for the Lord, but oh please can I be the commander!  The guy who gives the orders.  The guy who has everyone else serving him.  It’s okay if there is a Caesar somewhere–Christ is the only Head of the Church–as long as he’s somewhere else and I get my way for as long as I can.  Pharisee.

How much of the Calvinistic world is about “let’s get our way” on this or that?  To that extent, Pharisees find people they can happily hang out with.  I should know.  I’m a Calvinist.  And I’m a Pharisee.

I should be thinking more highly of others than myself.  But, truthfully, I actually think more highly of others as they approach my standard and example.  Yeah, I know.  “Set them an example in everything.”  “Follow me as I follow Christ.”  Yep.  That’s Bible.  But how often do I stop with just “Follow me” and leave off Christ?   Even example setting has to end with Jesus and not my “get it right” ethic.  Pharisee.

I should be using my freedom to serve others in love.  But I want to use my freedom to serve my freedom.  How my heart cries for freedom so I can have more freedom… which is just another way of saying do what I want and have others comply.  “For freedom Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, do not let yourself get entangled again.”  Yeah, I know.  Pharisee.  Squinting at the scripture behind me-colored spectacles until everyone and everything exists for my happiness.

“Lay down your life for the brethren.”  Of course.  Of course.  But first, let’s have them prove they are brethren… and then if they’re brethren let’s see a few of them lay down their lives first.  Then, maybe, if it serves my interests and needs, then, maybe, I’ll lay down my life.  It would be mighty inconvenient to sacrifice something for others.  Let’s make sure it’s worth it, or that they are more worthy than I am.  Which, of course, they are not.  Pharisee.

“Free love.”  That 60s slogan was right, though the application and ethics were horribly wrong.  The Pharisee in me is like that.  At the rhetorical level, I understand free love.  At the level of application, my selfish heart too often twists the words into “Me love.”

Like a good Calvinist, I do love the Lord and I do love the Lord’s people.  But like a good Pharisee, I do love me–too much.  Hence my selfishness which threatens to ruin all my other loves.

In my selfishness, I’m a cannibal.  I devour others and their desires to feed my own.  I’m a Pharisee taking the widow’s mite and giving comfortably out of my riches.  Pharisee.  Pharisee.  Pharisee.  I should be washing the Savior’s feet with my tears!

Why is the Pharisee selfish?  He’s not convinced that God is the Best Giver.  He thinks God only taxes and exacts, takes and rakes.  So, the Pharisee looks out for numero uno.  He protects his own interests.  He plans and strategizes to be sure his standard of living (what an abominable phrase when our Lord had no place to lay His head!) is secure.  He does all this because he doesn’t believe 2 Cor. 9:6-11.  He doesn’t believe or trust the generosity of God revealed in the word.  He believes the poverty of his own heart and experience are more powerful than the riches of God’s grace.  So he grows tight-fisted, self-centered, safe-playing, and small.  The Pharisee.

Why is he so at home in a theological understanding and history so plentiful in sacrifice, radical generosity, and selfless love? Again, he won’t be at home if the theology, history, etc. leads him to the living Lord who though He was rich became poor for our sakes.  That’s a Lord the selfish Pharisee could never countenance.

There once was a Calvinist (speaking anachronistically, of course) who knew Jesus.  He writes to me: “Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers.  Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created” (James 1:16-18).

Our Lord and our God, help us to know you as the Giver of every good and perfect gift, and to believe our beliefs until we’re filled with your selfless love.  Amen.

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